


Heart goes bump, bump, bump

by sunsaints



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M, Romance, a bit of angst eventually, some canon scenerios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 68,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsaints/pseuds/sunsaints
Summary: "What's your problem?" Lúcio's voice shakes with weeks of bottled frustration, it bleeds from his tongue and into his words, "You seem to have a problem with ME. Did I do something wrong?"Junkrat maliciously laughed , "Mate, we said we'd protect ya. Said we weren't here to be yer friends. We're gettin' the job done, aren't we?"Lúcio swallowed as he drew his lips into a thin line, "Right, but I-""Then I suggest ya shut yer pretty little mouth and thank yer lucky stars yer still alive."





	1. The first Beat

_|| i said you smell like the devil but you feel like the lord and when i think of perfection you know i’m thinking of your voice ||_

 

“So…What should I call you?” The question hung in the air for several seconds. Lúcio arched an eyebrow as he eyed the men before him.

The skinnier of the two tugged at his collar, clearly uncomfortable with the question, “Junkrat. This fellow over here is Roadhog.” He said, pointing a dirt caked finger at the man standing besides him.

Lúcio gave a soft whistle in reply, followed by a smile, “Right. But I’ll need real names. I’m placing my life in your hands. I think I deserve to know the names of the men who will be in charge of looking after me, don’t you?”

“Look mate, we’ll get the job done. No need to get all friendly, swear on me life, no one will touch a hair on yer pretty little head as long as we are ‘round.” Junkrat crossed his arms over his chest, brows knitting together in slight irritation, “Don’t doubt us, we’re the best of the best!”

Lúcio leaned against his chair, eyes scanning Junkrat and Roadhog from head to toe. He doesn’t trust them. But he doesn't have time to look into more auditions. He needed bodyguards, and he needed them as soon as possible. Besides the lack of time, it wasn’t as if he had a variety of options seeing as only a handful of people had applied for the job. While the pay was ridiculously high, the job was incredibly risky…

He wondered if word had gotten around- His last bodyguard had died during one of his concerts…Of course it would scare off potential candidates.

“Oi mate, you fallin’ asleep on us?” Junkrat placed a hand on Lúcio's desk, leaning forward as he waved his hand in front of his face. His body wobbled slightly. Lúcio had noticed that the man walked with a sort of limp, but despite it, he stood tall and proud, “We got the job or not? Cos I’ll shred this suit as soon as we step out of here.”

Lúcio blinked, his smile quivered. The suits did look a bit odd on the two of them, and with the way Junkrat kept tugging at his collar and sleeves, Lúcio figured he wasn’t used to the clothing.

“How about a test run? You guys come with me to my next concert, and if everything goes well the job is yours.” Lúcio expected Junkrat to scoff, and turn down the proposition, so he was caught off guard when the taller man smirked sharply, teeth bared in an almost threatening way,

“You got yerself a deal!”

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

The concert flowed smoothly.

There was a riot in the crowd, but Junkrat and Roadhog handled it before Lúcio had a chance to focus on it.

Riots and protests weren’t unusual, in fact, it was almost unsettling how used Lúcio was to them. Plenty of people didn’t agree with Lúcio's believes, they wanted him to sit down and hold his tongue; this only encouraged the DJ to be louder.

Despite constantly putting his life at risk, Lúcio was satisfied with the results his music brought. Plenty of fans and social outlets would shower him in praise. He was making a change in the world, he was the positive influence the current and younger generation needed.

After the concert, Lúcio had made his way backstage. Instantly, he was surrounded by his crew. They pressed towels and makeup sponges to his face, they all spoke at once, reminding him of things he needed to get done now that the concert was over. This week in particular had been stressful- Much too tired to speak, Lúcio held out a hand in hopes his crew would understand, but when the message didn’t get across, Lúcio opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, he was scooped into the air by the collar of his shirt, legs dangling uselessly as his eyes went wide with confusion and fear.

“Ey, Boss how did we do?” Junkrat’s grinning face came into view, and a few moments later, Roadhog placed Lúcio down on his feet, away from the crowd of people that had gathered around him. It took Lúcio a few seconds to compose himself, after all, being snatched up and away like a rag-doll wasn’t something he was used to or ever wanted to experience again. He knows he's short, and rather small compared to other men, but Roadhog and Junkrat made him feel as tiny as Thumbelina. The two men towered over him, and Lúcio could only stare up in awe.

Scratching at the small patch of hair under his lip, Lúcio laughed nervously, “Not bad but…We'll need to set some ground rules."

“Does that mean we’re hired?” Junkrat’s lips stretched wide with a triumphant smile before Lúcio could confirm anything.

Lúcio nodded, "Yeah, it's yours...I'll trust you'll keep me safe."

Junkrat's cackle was as loud as the after burst of a firework, "Ya can count on us Boss!"

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lúcio's apartment is rather tiny, Junkrat had expected something much bigger and fancier.

“Ya got the cash for it don’t ya?”

Lúcio nodded, “Sure do, but I rather hand the money over to charities…I only use what I need.”

Junkrat snorted, “Quite the generous fellow huh?”

Lúcio shrugged.

After that, the room fell into a comfortable silence. Lúcio was hunched over a notebook, pink tongue stuck between his lips as he scribbled ideas down. Junkrat and Roadhog (mostly Junkrat) had insisted they’d prefer to guard the apartment from the outside, but Lúcio had refused. He didn’t want to make his neighbors uncomfortable, nor did he want to draw attention to himself. Though it took a few minutes of convincing, they’d agree to stay indoors as long as Lúcio didn’t expect them to _“make conversation.”_

True to their word, Roadhog and Junkrat rarely spoke. Lúcio didn’t mind; as long as they got their job done and kept him safe he had no reason to complain.

During the day, Junkrat would watch over him, and at night, Roadhog would take over. They’d rented the apartment right below Lúcio's since he couldn’t convince them to take the extra room.

“Too personal-” Junkrat had growled, and Lúcio had quickly dropped the subject.

He didn’t understand why the man was so reluctant when it came to getting to know each other, but Lúcio wasn’t willing to question it. Not yet anyways.

Junkrat would slouch against the door, amber eyes drawn to the dirt beneath his fingernails- He’d fidget with the tie around his neck, tugging at it until it would hang loosely against his white button up. He didn’t like wearing suits, he’d made this clear on day one. Lúcio had almost allowed them to wear casual clothing but…It was part of the job. Yeah, that was it. It totally wasn’t because Lúcio found it amusing watching Junkrat button down his shirt only to button it up again in defeat seconds later.

Roadhog didn’t seem to mind though. Unlike Junkrat, Roadhog was extremely difficult to read. The man could stand as still as a statue. At times, Lúcio wondered if he ever breathed or blinked…As mysterious as Roadhog was, Lúcio found his presence comforting. Late nights where he’d curl up in his comfortable red armchair, with his laptop in his lap as he typed away lyrics that he’d later hate, and Roadhog’s giant shadow crawling upon the carpet, eyes locked with everything but the small man he was supposed to be looking after, were the types of nights Lúcio liked the most.

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

“Lyrics huh…” Hana tilted her head to the side, locks of brown hair slipped from her shoulders and hanged loosely around her face, “It’s new for sure. Why do you want to add lyrics to your songs all of a sudden?"

“Thought it would be cool to try something new.” Lúcio frowned slightly, “You think it’s a bad idea?”

“No, no! Not at all! I think you should go for it!”

Hana’s reassurance made Lúcio smile with something akin to relief, “I think it would be cool, you know? People singing the same words, united by one song.” He paused, brown hues dancing from Hana’s smile to the open laptop between them, “Now I just got to think of something powerful!”

Besides him, Hana giggled, pressing a finger into the dimple in his cheek, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Yeah…” He laughed nervously, “Did I make it obvious?”

“Kind of…I could tell something was off."

“Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind but I-”

She wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him closer as she rubbed her cheek against his, “And that’s why I’m here, right? To make sure you stay upbeat and on track!”

A small laugh bubbled from between Lúcio's lips, “Thanks Hana…Dunno what I’d do without you.”

Hana then pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose before she hopped away from her spot on the sofa and towards the apartment’s small kitchen. She’d taken it upon herself to prepare lunch anytime she happened to be over, otherwise Lúcio would eat nothing but microwavable foods. Usually, she’d hum to herself, or talk about a crazy experience she'd faced during one of her live streams, but today, she was distracted by the guard standing by the front door.

“So what kind of name is Junkrat?”

The skinny man arched a bushy eyebrow, “What do ya mean? It’s me name.”

“Yeah, I get that, but what inspired it?”

Junkrat snorts, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the door. Golden eyes scan the room until they lock onto Lúcio who instantly glances away from the screen to focus on those vibrant irises.

“This one talks a lot, don’t she?” Despite his sluggish posture, he sounds amused.

Lúcio smiles, “Yeah, but she’s lots of fun to talk to. Try it.”

Hana waved a spatula in front of Junkrat, causing him to avert his gaze from the DJ.

“Hey! I’m standing right here, don’t ignore me.”

“Hear ya loud and clear missy but see I-”

Before Junkrat could finish his sentence, Hana wrapped a hand around his arm, dragging him closer towards the stove, “Oh hush it up, here!” She shoved the spatula into his hand and positioned him in front of a pan filled with veggies and slabs of chicken, “Make yourself useful.”

“Look, I gotta look after yer friend and I ain't allowed to go near flames-"

From his spot on the couch, Lúcio called out, “I’m doing just fine! I’m more curious to see what you'll cook up!” He paused, placed his laptop to the side, and flashed a smile, “Show me what you've got.”

Junkrat’s frown quickly disappears and is replaced by a wide grin, “Prepare to be amazed mate.”

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

 It isn't that Junkrat wasn’t friendly, or that he didn’t like talking (he could be quite the chatter box as he'd proved today thanks to Hana) it was more like he had reasons to keep his distance. Lúcio dwelled on this after Hana had departed. The two of them had been left alone, and while Lúcio took it upon himself to wash the dishes, Junkrat was kind enough to clean the table.

Junkrat had managed to burn the chicken and now Lúcio was finding it difficult to scrape the remains off the pan's surface. The fire had startled both Lúcio and Hana but they'd frantically held it under control before the smoke alarm could go off. Afterwards, they thought it would be best to order pizza.

“She’s actually not always that pushy…I think she was trying her best to cheer me up.”

“Wasn’t complain’ 'bout it…”

At that, Lúcio perked up, “I’m glad, I was worried you were uncomfortable, since you said you didn’t like talking to-”

“I know what I said.” The answer was abrupt and bitter, catching Lúcio off guard.

Before he could catch it, a glass slipped between his soapy hands, breaking into pieces the moment it hit the floor.

For several seconds they both stared at the shards of glass in alarm. Slowly, Lúcio lowered himself to his knees and began gathering the bigger pieces into his hands.

"What's your problem? I mean…" Lúcio's voice shakes with weeks of bottled frustration, it bleeds from his tongue and into his words, "You seem to have a problem with ME. Did I do something wrong?"

Just an hour ago, Junkrat had joyfully followed along with Hana's conversation, but as soon as she had left, the Junker resumed his solemn attitude. Lúcio couldn't understand why Junkrat had to be such a dick to him.

It hurt- Lúcio isn't sure why it hurt to see Junkrat open up to Hana, but the way he'd shown excitement in her life made Lúcio wonder if maybe he wasn't good enough to catch Junkrat's interest. Anytime Lúcio had tried to join in, Junkrat had either grown silent or pointed the conversation in another direction. In the end, Lúcio had excused himself from the table, and settled for the couch and his laptop. He couldn't write, despite his efforts, he kept focusing on the joyful pitch of Junkrat's voice.

Junkrat maliciously laughed, "Mate, we said we'd protect ya. Said we weren't here to be yer friends. We're gettin' the job done, aren't we?"

Bright amber eyes burn into the back of Lúcio's head, forcing him to glance upwards.

Lúcio swallowed as he drew his lips into a thin line, "Right but I-"

"Then I suggest ya shut yer pretty little mouth and thank yer lucky stars yer still alive."

He clenched his teeth and would've punched the Junker right in the jaw if it weren't for the glass in his hands- The sharp edges dig into his skin, reminding him to keep his cool. Lúcio drops the glass and stands up tall, though Junkrat stands two feet taller than him, Lúcio doesn't back down.

"Clean it up."

Junkrat opens his mouth, but Lúcio's voice is stronger, thick with the anger he usually kept locked away in his chest,

"That's an order."

This time, Junkrat didn't protest.

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

There's dark circles under his brown eyes. He hasn't slept properly in days, and even if he were to attempt to sleep before midnight, Lúcio finds himself unable to ward off his anxiety.

Tonight he's hunched over his laptop, one hand on the keyboard, the other around a pair of headphones pressed to his left ear. He's mixed several strings of music and beats, he's trying to piece together something soft yet exciting. So far, he hates it, he loathes everything about it, but he refuses to give up. He needs new material. He can feel inspiration drumming dully beneath his skin, steadily, it beats against the flesh. If he keeps trying, he'll eventually draw it out.

"I'll eventually get it right" He whispers between clenched teeth.

His eyelids are heavy and his head his heavier. The letters on the screen are a scrambled mess, and though he's turned down the brightness, the light radiating from his laptop still hurts his sensitive eyes.

"You might want to get some rest." Roadhog's voice is soft yet gruff enough to scare Lúcio right out of his skin.

He'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone. Though Roadhog usually supervised the apartment at night, the large man was so quiet Lúcio often failed to notice his presence. Besides that, Junkrat and Roadhog hardly ever bothered to engage in conversation with their employer, making the days and nights lonelier than they already were.

It brought his mind back to last night's argument with Junkrat and his stomach dropped. Junkrat had been awfully distant today, something Lúcio didn't think possible, but now, the Junker would avoid looking in his direction. Could he even call it an argument? He doubts it, but Junkrat sure acted like it could be called one. He shakes his head; he simply refused to dwell on it. Right now, he has more important things to focus on.

"Uh…Yeah. I'm not tired." With a lazy grin, Lúcio tugged a couple of thin dreadlocks behind his ear. Hana had dyed the ends a neon pink, but the color had faded into a pastel sort of hue that Lúcio had grown too fond of to get rid of or retouch.

"Really? 'Cos I've seen you nodding off a couple of times. You'll be uncomfortable if you fall asleep at your desk." Roadhog moved towards him, and Lúcio watched him make his way through the apartment. For a guy his size, he was as nimble as a mouse. Lúcio wondered if it was a skill he'd acquired through out the years.

"I need to get stuff done." Lúcio protested.

"You can get it done tomorrow. Besides," Roadhog took a peek at Lúcio's screen, a grunt leaving his scarred lips, "You're just writing gibberish."

Lúcio turned his head to read over his own writing and his cheeks burned with embarrassment when he noticed just how incoherent it all was,

"I guess sleep wouldn't kill me." He mumbles.

With one final glance at his work, he closed his laptop and stretched his arms above his head, shivering when his muscles and joints gave audible pops.

Getting to his feet, he walked towards his bedroom, pausing briefly near the doorway to look back at his bodyguard, "Thanks."

Roadhog crossed his arms over his chest, "It's my job to keep you alive and healthy. That includes sleep."

"Right. Of course."

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Looking after Lúcio wasn't as difficult as the job description had made it out to be. So what if his previous bodyguard had died on the job? It wasn't something Junkrat and Roadhog couldn't handle or hadn't ever faced before.

In all honesty, Junkrat was bored. On most days, Lúcio would stay in doors, hunched over his turntables, a notebook, or his laptop, and Junkrat would watch over him.

Nothing ever happened. There was no crazy break ins, or attacks. It was peaceful…He hated it.

He'd try his best to stand still, but eventually, he'd take a seat and polish off his guns- Guns he hadn't used in weeks, and now he feared he wouldn't ever get to use unless he dropped the bodyguard gig.

Lúcio's concerts weren't coherent. Much to Lúcio's displeasure, his tour dates were scattered and unorganized. Junkrat always hoped they'd run into some action during the days Lúcio was scheduled to be on stage, but the only exciting thing to come out of the event was the occasional commotion in the crowd. Even then, Junkrat was only breaking up a fight or two. If it were up to him, he'd let them go at it, but Roadhog would grunt in disapproval and so he was forced to pull it apart.

_Boring, absolutely dull._

The only times Junkrat could say he was slightly entertained was during Lúcio's meet and greet conventions. Both Roadhog and him would stand behind Lúcio as he signed autographs. The room would quickly fill up with screaming fans, most of which had to be reminded to stay in line and move in an orderly fashion. Lúcio would welcome each fan with a soft smile, and take the time to ask how their day was going- The replies were a mixture of babbles and low screeches, Lúcio would only laugh and encourage his fans to relax.

Most fans would shyly ask for his autograph, ask him a few questions, and kindly thank him for the time he put into his work. While others were incredibly over the top. There were instances where Junkrat or Roadhog had to step in and make sure the DJ wasn't in any danger, but each time they came to his rescue, Lúcio would hold his hand up and take care of it himself. He was able to ease away all awkward and uncomfortable situations with soothing words and a calm smile.

How Lúcio could handle an ambush of frantic people, Junkrat didn't know, but it was something he slowly grew to admire.

He had to admit that it really was fascinating watching Lúcio engage with his fans.

After the room had been cleared out, Lúcio leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Oi, Boss ya ready to head home?" Junkrat questioned as he made sure the room was secure. It wouldn't be the first time an over-obsessive fan managed to sneak away and hide under a table or behind a curtain only to jump out when Lúcio least expected it. Even when his privacy was violated, Lúcio managed to keep his shock and anger under control and handle the situation like a Pro- Sometimes, Junkrat wondered if the guy really needed bodyguards, after all, he could handle himself just fine.

"Almost…Kinda dreading it." Lúcio replied as his head hit the table. He'd gone limp, the enthusiasm he'd radiated just minutes ago completely drained from his body.

Junkrat glanced at Roadhog who merely shrugged. Without thinking, he crouched besides the exhausted man, and spoke softly "What do ya mean? It ain't like we have much to do here."

Lúcio lifted his head a little, "Just means I have to go home and work on music that sounds wrong…On music that doesn't sound like it belongs to me."

Junkrat doesn't know what to say. Maybe he's not supposed to say anything, so he doesn't. They sit in silence and in that silence Junkrat can hear Lúcio's ragged breaths, hot and humid against the table as Lúcio wonders if the entire world could hear the sad drums of his heart against bone- _Bump, Bump, Bump._

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

 "He's not always so closed off."

Lucio glanced away from his laptop, eyes falling on Roadhog's silhouette. The larger man had taken a seat near the corner of the living room, and in the darkness, Lúcio could barely make out his face. Not that it mattered, Roadhog always wore the most stoic of expressions.

"I don't think he likes me very much." Lúcio takes a faded green mug resting upon his desk into his hands and took a small sip of the warm tea Roadhog had prepared for them both minutes prior, "Which is fine. He's said it's part of the job, and I don't want to question it."

While Junkrat had been nothing but aloof and cold, Roadhog had slowly began to open up. Lúcio had spent several hours bouncing ideas off his bodyguard accepting most of his low growls and grunts as sounds of approval.

It was nice; having someone to talk to during the late hours of the night was comforting. It made it easier to write, and the DJ would thank Roadhog if he didn't fear their conversations would come to an end as soon as he brought attention to them.

"That's not it. He likes you. He's not the best at expressing himself."

"Why is that?" Lúcio asked only to be greeted with a soft huff of air.

Roadhog was done talking.

Lúcio turned his attention back to the screen of his laptop, trying his best to focus on his writing, but now his mind kept going back to Junkrat.

Great, just great.

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Junkrat hates (simply hates) being the one in charge of escorting Lúcio through the mall. Lúcio had insisted he stay behind if he really disliked it _that_ much, but Junkrat wasn't taking any chances. An attack could happen at any given moment and if Lúcio got hurt, it would be the bodyguard's fault.

He stayed several feet behind Lúcio, trailing close enough to swoop in if the DJ were to need help but far enough that he couldn't hear whatever he and Hana were talking about. The limp in his walk already made it difficult enough to keep up, but he wasn't letting it get in the way. His fingers wrap around his right thigh, or as he liked to call it, his malfunctioned leg- The ol' gal wasn't stopping him, not today, not ever.

The plan was to keep his distance- As long as he had Lúcio within his eyesight, there wouldn't be a problem, but of course, nothing could ever be easy.

Junkrat was forced to follow after Lúcio and Hana anytime they entered one of the many shops located within the mall. Usually the stores were cramped, making it incredibly difficult to keep an eye on Lúcio unless he stuck to his heels.

"You can always wait outside man. I'm sure nothing bad will happen while I look through clothing." Lúcio said after he noticed Junkrat's sour expression. The Junker had plopped himself down on one of the chairs pressed against the store's dressers, lips pursed and eyes down casted as he tried his best to keep his left leg from bobbing with impatientness.

"Ain't risking it." Junkrat stated.

"Aight…Your choice." Lúcio shrugged and brought his attention back to the racks, eyeing each article of clothing carefully before brushing it to the side and inspecting the next one.

After Hana had filled her arms with several tank tops and skirts, she'd hopped towards the dressing room Junkrat was currently leaning against. With a soft smile, Hana patted Junkrat's cheek "Hang in there."

Junkrat could only bite down on his tongue. They'd been at it for hours! Hana would pick out mountains upon mountains of clothing, try them all on, only to purchase **one** of the **many** shirts or skirts she'd horded.

Maybe Junkrat would be less annoyed if it weren't for Hana's constant need of approval. She found it necessary to model every outfit she tried on, eager to hear Lúcio's opinion. Lúcio didn't mind, in fact, he had a lot to say. He'd point out what brought out Hana's eyes, which shades flattered her skin tone, and which ones didn't.

It was when Hana had entered the dressing room to try on a dress Lúcio had picked out for her that Junkrat finally opened his mouth to say something,

"You keep lookin' in the wrong section."

Lúcio's brown eyes shot upwards to meet Junkrat's unwavering gaze, "Huh?"

The Junker pointed to the pair of ripped jeans, and an aquamarine shirt Lúcio had draped over one of his arms, "Those are for ya, aren't they? Since ya haven't handed them over to yer girl yet."

Lúcio frowned, before his face softened, "Uh yeah…I don't really have a lot of money to spend but I figured I'd treat myself today."

Once his suspicions had been confirmed, Junkrat nodded, and again, he repeated, "Yer shoppin' in the wrong section mate. This is for ladies, ain't it?" He nods towards the neon pink sign hanging from the ceiling, "Says Ladies right on it too. Can't ya read?"

Lúcio snorted, "Clearly, you haven't seen how good I look in high-waisted jeans. Besides, it's just clothes. Who says I can't wear whatever I want? If it fits, and you like it, wear it. Nothing wrong with it."

"Makes sense…"

Lúcio carefully removed a white turtle neck crop-top from its hanger, "It does. Since when do you let one stupid sign tell you what to do?" He chuckled, "Kinda out of character of you."

"That's not it!" Angrily, Junkrat tugged at his collar. Stupid tie! He'd told Roadhog he didn't like wearing a suit, adding a tie to it was just pushing it! But Roadhog had insisted, something about making the boss look good while out in public.

With a frustrated sigh, Junkrat loosened the fabric around his neck before rubbing at his temples, "Just…never really thought about it ya know? Always been more focused on weapons, money and explosives instead of clothing."

"Don't sweat it man. I understand." Light laughter bubbled from Lúcio, causing Junkrat to jerk his head upwards, and he almost wished he'd kept his glares focused on the wads of gum stuck to the bottom of the opposing chairs. Lúcio had pressed the crop top to his chest, as he took in his reflection from one of the mirrors positioned on the store's wall.

Junkrat didn't know shit about shades, lighting and colors but for a brief second, he was sure Lúcio could kick God down for his throne and replace all testimonies of religion and sacred prayers with his smile alone.

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Roadhog and Junkrat had rented an apartment a floor below Lúcio's. It made switching shifts easier. When morning rolled around, and Lúcio dragged himself out of bed, he knew Junkrat would be right outside his bedroom, keeping an eye out for trouble that never seemed to arrive.

Through a yawn, Lúcio mumbled a lazy "Good morning," eyes half closed as he made his way towards the fridge. Swinging the door open, he retrieved the milk and took a full swig out of the carton. He noticed just how light the container felt, he really needed to stop by the grocery store and restock before he became swamped in work and completely forgot about it.

Much too occupied with his mental list of chores, Lúcio almost missed Junkrat's throaty "Good mornin'."

Shocked by the unexpected reply, Lúcio stared at Junkrat in utter disbelief. He'd been so surprised by it, a line of milk had dribbled past his lips, down the curve of his chin. Hurriedly, he swallowed down his mouthful of milk and beamed through a wide smile, "Good morning!"

Junkrat quirked an eyebrow, "Ya already said that."

"I know, but I never thought you'd reply."

"It ain't a big deal."

"Maybe not…" Lúcio trailed off, "But there's nothing wrong with wishing someone a good morning, especially when you spend most of your day with them."

Junkrat tugged at his collar, amber eyes narrowing just slightly, "I hear ya. Now, how 'bout ya do me one big favor."

"Depends what you're going to ask for."

Lúcio's smile was greeted with a sharp smirk, "Le'me take this dam shirt off and I'll be nothin' but a charmin' ol' bloke who greets ya every mornin'."

"Seriously?" He snorted, "Does the shirt really bug you that much? I think it looks real nice on you."

"Don't give a shit 'bout looks." Junkrat replied with yet another frustrated tug at his collar, "I also don't like how it feels against me skin. Itchy piece of junk."

"Alright. You can take it off while we're in the apartment, but if we go out in public you have to wear it. I don't need you getting in trouble."

"Oi, ya got yerself a deal!" Without wasting anytime Junkrat quickly unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it onto one of the chairs circling the kitchen table.

"Kinda surprised you didn't tear it apart." Lúcio stated as he turned to search the cabinets for a clean bowl.

"Nah mate, then I'd have to buy another one, which means I'd have to go shoppin' for it. Yuck."

Tapping his spoon against his lips, Lúcio laughed, "You got a point there. Though shopping for clothes can be really fun when you know what you're looking for and-" Lúcio's chirpy tone faltered once he turned to face Junkrat.

The Australian man stood a foot or two taller than Lúcio, he'd known this the moment they'd met but hadn't really focused on it until now. Without his shirt, Junkrat seemed much, much, taller, causing Lúcio to grow both intimidated and irritated. Maybe it was the way his ribs poked out from his freckled skin, the way they curved inwards causing his chest to look bigger and boarder. Maybe it was the way his collarbones looked sharp enough to pierce through his throat. Or Maybe it was the tattoos scattered across his long arms and shoulders. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the small pearl piercing located just above his belly button.

Lúcio's eyes focused on the piercing. He wondered if it had hurt, he wondered if the scars hugging his stomach and hips had hurt too. Some scars skipped down his stomach, while others wrapped around his waist.

As if Junkrat could read his thoughts, he ran a bony finger down a wide scar located just between his ribs, "Swear the others look a lot worse since most 'em are dead."

Lúcio watched Junkrat's chest expand and contrast with each wave of laughter. It looked...Painful. He looked malnourished, as if the idea of a healthy life had been sucked dry from his muscles. Lúcio grew uneasy- Junkrat's body brought back memories he tried to suffocate beneath his pillow, memories he didn't want to recall…Completely ignoring Junkrat's previous statement, Lúcio almost tripped over himself as he quickly poured cereal and milk into the bowl, before plopping down the dish on the table.

"Eat. Sit down and eat."

Junkrat opened his mouth to protest but once he noticed Lúcio's gentle expression turn hard with determination, and something else he couldn't quite place, he pulled out a chair and began shoving cereal down his throat.

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

After Junkrat had almost died choking on his food and later complained that the cereal tasted like shit, they both decided to go shopping.

"I don't know how to cook but Roadie makes some killer meals." Junkrat said as he tossed a small bag of rice from hand to hand, "Shoulda brought him with us but I didn't wanna wake him up."

Lucio nodded, knowing all too well how vigilant Roadhog was during his night shift. The guy deserved his sleep. "So maybe we should buy lots of frozen foods instead 'cause I don't know a thing about cooking either."

Junkrat cocked his head to the side, an amused smile tugging at his lips, "And ya give me shit for eating badly?"

"Hey, that's different. At least I _try_ to eat."

"It ain't that I don't try. I'm too busy to actually remember to eat. Anyways, I've always been a naturally skinny fellow."

Lucio tossed a few boxes of mac and cheese into the cart, "Well, from now on, you eat when I eat. That way you won't forget."

Junkrat frowned, "And if I don't?"

"You have to. It's an order from the dude whose paying you quite the pretty penny to protect him."

Junkrat grimaced for a second or two before he noticed Lucio's bright smile.

Suddenly, his heart was beating frantically loud in his throat, making it almost impossible to swallow down the weird sort of way his voice cracked when he replied, "F-Fine but it don't mean I'm likin' it."

"Aww come on man, there's no way you could snub mac and cheese."

And again, Lucio is smiling and it's when his eyes turn into half moons that Junkrat whispers a low "fuck" because he's sure there's no way he could ever deny any of Lucio's requests.

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ..  
-

He's not sure when exactly he started paying attention to all of Lúcio's actions.

On a Monday morning, Lúcio gets up extra early in order to make breakfast. It's a complete disaster. There's pancake mix stuck to the stove, to the floor and to Lúcio's cheeks, but he's laughing as he attempts to flip the cake stuck to the pan. It's the most beautiful sound Junkrat has ever heard.

On a Tuesday evening, Junkrat finds himself staring at the shorter male as he carefully runs his fingers down specially customized turntables. The set glows a bright green, occasionally flickering to a warm yellow. In the light, Lúcio's eyes shine. Heaven must have come undone and all the stars in the galaxy fell upon his irises. God must be angry, he must be infuriated after losing all the lights circling the skies to Lúcio's presence.

On Wednesday, Junkrat observes as Lúcio braids his hair. He picks each strand carefully taming it between his fingers. This time, Lúcio catches Junkrat's eyes and grins as he pats the empty spot on the floor besides him,

"Stop ogling me and help, or else I'll be here for hours."

Junkrat swallowed, "Don't know how to braid hair."

Lúcio waves a hand in the air, dismissing Junkrat's excuse as quickly as it came, "No biggie. I'll teach you."

Junkrat sits besides Lúcio, listening attentively as he explained how he was supposed to thread the hair. When he took the locks of hair into his hands his eyes widened. It was much softer than he had imagined it to be. The fragrance of strawberries and coconut oil was fitting, and dare he say? Cute.

Junkrat suddenly felt self conscious. When was the last time he'd showered? He couldn't remember. He forgot to bathe as often as he forgot to eat…He'd forget he was a human being with basic necessities if it weren't for Roadhog's constant naggings, and more recently, Lúcio's naggings.

Wrinkling his nose, Junkrat made a face at the dirt under his fingernails. He really needed to start washing up, though…He'd never took his hygiene into consideration, so why the hell did he care about it now?

"Did you get the hang of it?" Lúcio asked after several minutes of silence.

"Think so…" and now Junkrat is talking between clenched teeth, just in case his breath smelled because no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember if he'd brushed that morning. Most likely not.

He focused on braiding Lúcio's hair, occasionally stopping when the shorter man would move to change the song blasting through the speakers surrounding the living room.

Anytime one of Lúcio's songs would shuffle on, he'd quickly change it to the next song, and after the third time he leaned forward to skip the tune, Junkrat swatted his hand away.

"What're ya shy?"

"No. That's not it. It's just weird….Jamming to my own music." Lúcio lowered his eyes, placing a small bead at the end of the neon pink braid.

"But it sounds nice. Ya wouldn’t have such a large fan base if it sucked."

"Thanks man…" Lúcio flashed Junkrat a quick smile, "I do work my ass off trying to put together beats for my fans."

"I can tell, now…" Junkrat fiddled with the end of a braid, "Stop movin' or it will be yer fault if these come out crooked."

"Fine...Fine..." Lucio sighed, but couldn't help the grin pulling at his lips. 

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"You're starting to like him." Roadhog said between a mouthful of food.

"That ain't it." Junkrat replied, frowning down at his ketchup covered fries, "Short stuff seemed lonely, all cooped up doin' nothin' but write songs all day. So I decided to drop the _no talkin'_ rule."

Sometimes Lúcio would leave the apartment and go visit Hana, or attend record company meetings, but other than that, the DJ spent most of his days mixing beats together. Lúcio said that after he met his deadline he'd be able to host more meet and greets, because that's what he truly loved to do; the best part of the job was interacting with his fans.

Something about it rubbed Junkrat the wrong way but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. While Lúcio was contempt, he didn't seem happy.

Junkrat bit down on one of his fries, "Hurry up and eat, we can't leave the boss waitin' all day ya know."

"He gave us the day off." Roadhog reminded him.

"That he did, but-" He wasn't sure why exactly he wanted to get back to Lucio. He was perfectly fine. They'd drop him off at Hana's and her house was heavily guarded thanks to her gaming/actress background and her adoptive Father's rank in his military branch.

Lúcio was safe, yet Junkrat worried. Worry- That was one emotion he hadn’t felt in a long while. He groaned and rubbed at his nose.

"Shit! We said we wouldn't get attached to this one!" Uneasily, Junkrat tapped his fingers against the table, ignoring the odd looks he received from the people around them.

"It's not a bad thing." Roadhog answered, "It won't end the same way Jamie."

At the mention of his name, Junkrat froze, then, he sighed, "You don't know that..." He took a bite out of his burger and spoke through a mouthful, "Doesn't matter, we need to get back to him. Days off are for squares anyways."

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

When it rains, and the city grows gloomy, Lúcio sits near the window and watches the water droplets slide down the glass.

He's curled in on himself, head resting against the window. He looks so small, when he's rolled up into a tight little ball, Junkrat thinks, Lúcio looks vulnerable. Fragile. If he were to reach out and touch him he'd crumble and fall.

On some days, Lúcio smiles and sings as he takes care of small chores around the apartment. He dances and glides across the floors, tossing random lyrics into the air as he tugs at Junkrat's arms and swings him about- He's bright, so bright…

Other days, Lúcio shuts down. He doesn't sing, he doesn't speak, and he doesn't eat unless Junkrat or Roadhog coax him into doing so.

Lúcio sits near the window and watches the droplets slide down the glass- Junkrat watches him, unable to find words that could possibly comfort him. His head is a mess, and his bottom lip is raw from how much he's bitten into it.

There's blood in his mouth.

He doesn't know what to say, thick lakes of red contained within his jaw and so, Junkrat watches over Lúcio and chokes on the blood in his mouth.

-  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

 "How's he feeling?" Lúcio asked as he held his mug of tea to his lips.

"Like shit," Junkrat replied, "He usually never gets sick, but when he does, it's bad."

Placing the mug down on the marbled floor, Lúcio pressed his face into the metal bars lining the balcony. One of the best parts of his apartment (besides how cheap rent could be) was the view which surrounded it. Up ahead laid the city, bright and loud and lively. When he wasn't trying to tackle deadlines, Lúcio liked to sit out in the balcony and watch the cars down below zoom by.

This time, Junkrat had joined him. They both sat with their feet dangling off the railings, eyes focused on the flickering lights of the city.

"Maybe we should try to cook something for him…" Lúcio wondered out loud. It would only be fair, after all, Roadhog would often prepare meals for the two younger males when he grew tired of watching them eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

"We'd burn yer flat down. I'm getting' paid to protect ya, not set ya on fire."

"Oh come on, I'm sure we'll do just fine if we work together." Lúcio picked up his mug again, except this time he pushed it into Junkrat's open palms, "I made tea didn't I? Boiled the water myself!"

Junkrat stared down at the clear liquid before glancing up at his companion with a toothy smile, "Congrats, but see…" His grin is quickly replaced with a deep scowl, "I ain't allowed near open flames."

"Why is that?" Lúcio slowly questioned, as if he were afraid his curiosity were the fire itself.

As soon as Junkrat stepped into the apartment, he was quick to throw off his shirt, but he always kept his black slacks on, belt and all. So when his fingers curled around the end of his pants and tugged upwards, Lúcio was quite shocked to see the burnt flesh stretched painfully wide across Junkrat's right leg.

"Oh shit…What happened?" Lúcio cringed at the way his own voice wavered and cracked but Junkrat didn't seem to mind.

Lúcio was well aware of the way Junkrat limped, but he'd always assumed it was bad bone structure...He had never expected it to be this bad.

"Roadie and I have been in the bodyguard business for awhile now. Pays good and all, and everyone is desperate to hire Junkers, 'cos we ain't got limits. Ya wanna us to slit someone's throat? Wanna us to blow up a building regardless of the folks in it? Or maybe ya have a personal vendetta against an unlucky fellow and ya wanna us to torture him a bit…Done, done and done. All for the right price o'course. Shit happens though, ya get hurt, and I ain't the carefullest of guys." Junkrat's amber eyes flickered from the cup in his hands to Lúcio's bewildered expression, "Ya did know who ya were hiring, didn't ya?"

It took Lúcio a couple of seconds to process what was being said, but once it all sunk in, he shook his head, "Not exactly. I was just told you guys would keep me safe. Uh…" He glared down at his fingernails as he tried his best to recall what his agents had said, "Something about Junkers being the best of the best. After the last accident, my agents thought it would be appropriate if I picked out my bodyguard, since I would be the one spending most of my time with them…"

Lúcio swallowed, suddenly aware of who exactly he was sitting next to. But he'd been through worse hadn’t he? In fact, he wasn't the pure saint his friends and family made him out to be…His identity was often erased, and after awhile, Lúcio had stopped fighting and accepted it. That's what his mother had wanted...He was doing all of this for her. He had to remind himself of that, constantly.

"I didn't get as many candidates as I had wanted, and you and Roadhog weren't asking for a large sum of money." Lúcio shrugged, "I'm not dumb, I knew you two were shady from the start but...I just didn't want anyone else dying on me."

"Basically, ya hired us 'cos we were cheap-"

"Cheap and strong," Lúcio added before Junkrat could continue, "My agent did advice I pick Junkers, but in the end, it was my decision to make"

Junkrat nodded, teeth sinking into his lower lip, "Ya know…" He huffed out, voice barely above a whisper, "We usually charge a lot more than what we're charging ya. We're basically working for free if ya compare this job to previous jobs. This gig is too easy. No action, no explosions, nada. It's not what we're used to."

"Oh?" Lúcio tipped his head to the side in question, "So why did you want the job? Are you taking a break from your chaotic lifestyle?"

Junkrat shook his head before Lúcio could finish his sentence, "No! It wasn't my choice. Roadhog suggested we take it easy. He picked out the job himself and said it would be a change of pace. 'Course we got lucky, we had no dam clue the bloke we'd be lookin' after would be a peace advocate. This is temporary, like Hog said, this is only till I can get over the-" Abruptly, Junkrat came to a halt, and bit down on his tongue. There was a long pause before he shook his head and added, "Never mind."

Lúcio doesn't push it, he stays silent as Junkrat fumbled with his pockets. He retrieved a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out and sticks it between his teeth. He then proceeds to pat his pants down again, but after several seconds he throws his hands in the air, "Fuckin' forgot Roadie took away me lighter."

Lúcio's eyes drift back to Junkrat's leg, observing the scars and welts carefully, "You know, I think it's best you do take it easy."

Junkrat followed Lúcio's eyes, snorting when he caught sight of his own tarnished skin, "What? This ol' thing? Fuckin' deserved it for fuckin' round. I was a fool." He runs a finger down the charred flesh, "This is nothin' but a kiss from a lady dressed in robes of red, she coulda killed me if she had really wanted to. I ain't dead though and I'm ready to get back out there, I'm done playin' babysitter, I wanna go back to blowin' shit up."

At Junkrat's words, Lúcio winced, "Chill, I'm not a child. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here."

"So why are ya here then? Thought you were the type of guy who'd riot and protest, not sit at home all day. 'Cos back in Junker town ya were well known for leading plenty of angry folks towards freedom."

"I-" Lúcio hesitated, clutching his hand into a tight fist, "Wait...You knew about me?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Kinda...Yer popular throughout the world, but it wasn't like I kept track of yer doings. Really, we didn't realize ya were the famous Lúcio 'till a week into the job."

"Oh..."  Lúcio rubbed at the small patch of hair under his lip, "I don't like talking about it...About the past."

"Oi, bit of a hypocrite aren't ya?" Junkrat shakes his head, taking the cigarette between his fingers and stuffing it back in its carton, "But whatever, I'm sure ya have yer reasons, just like I have mine."

Lucio's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, sagging just a bit as he ran a hand through his dreadlocks, "Yeah, it seems like we might have a few things in common huh?"

"Yeah…I don't like it." The Junker said between clenched teeth, "Ya don't deserve it. Ya deserve better, much better than this shit hole anyways."

Junkrat noticed the way Lúcio seemed to crash, and he instantly hated himself for questioning him...

With a weak laugh,  Lúcio got to his feet, "Better get back to writing. But hey...When you do find a more convenient gig, I hope you take care of yourself."

Shit...Shit.

Before Junkrat could open his mouth and apologize, Lúcio had gone back into the apartment, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Fuck, maybe he should've stuck to his "no talking" rule, maybe then, he wouldn't have such a bitter after taste in his mouth.


	2. The second Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lmao

**||** _i didn’t dodge all your bullets i just denied that they hit me so when my body is bleeding i wont admit that this hurts_ **||**

 

Junkrat knows when Lúcio is angry; he's seen and experienced the rare sight an unfortunate amount of times.

The first time he witnessed Lúcio's rage was during a long distance phone call. The man was tense, shoulders rounded as he impatiently tapped his fingers against the table, occasionally interrupting his own rhythm with irritated strings of Portuguese.

Junkrat couldn't understand what was being said, but judging by Lúcio's expression and the coarse waver of his voice, he was relieved he wasn't part of it.

Lúcio mixed English swear words with his Portuguese before he slammed the phone down on the table and punched a hole into the nearest wall.

Caught off guard by the action and the loud boom that followed the shatter of pavement, Junkrat could only stare at Lúcio's shaking frame. It took him a few seconds to put two and two together, but once his eyes focused on the blotches of bright red dribbling down Lúcio's knuckles, Junkrat quickly took the DJ's quivering fist into his hands.

Lúcio flinched, upper lip curling in displeasure, and for a second, Junkrat was sure Lúcio would punch the shit out of him, but after blinking, once, twice, three times, he seemed to get a grip on himself. Slowly, he extended his bruised fingers outwards, making a face at the threads of blood flowing past his wrist. His eyes flickered between his injured hand resting above Junkrat's palm, to the fresh hole in the kitchen's wall.

"Shit…Sorry. I blanked out." 

Junkrat shook his head as he tugged Lúcio away from the kitchen and towards the bathroom, "Nah mate, it's good to let out yer anger. Can't keep that shit bottled up forever, just ain't healthy."

Lúcio leaned against the sink as Junkrat searched the cabinets for the first aid kit. He'd have to thank Roadhog later for making sure they always had one in stock- The big lug had a point: they'd never know when they'd be in need of medical aid. Once he found the box, he flipped it open and got to work. While Junkrat cleaned Lúcio's bloody knuckles, the smaller man was awfully quiet. His usual softness was replaced by a serious, and stony expression. Even when Junkrat tipped the bottle of hydrogen peroxide over the open wounds on Lúcio's fists, he remained composed.

It was weird, and strangely unsettling coming from the happy-go-lucky Lúcio.

Not wanting to risk sending Lúcio on a wild rampage, Junkrat decides to accept the silence. 

Some things were better left unsaid.

The second time Junkrat witnessed Lúcio's rage was during a press meeting. Lúcio had been on edge the entire morning. He'd mumble to himself- Junkrat would at times catch bits and pieces of what was being said; lists of songs Lúcio needed to write, song ideas that were left unfinished, lyrics he'd trashed, lyrics he needed to rewrite. The list went on and on. Lúcio became victim to his own thoughts completely lost within them. Roadhog had to guide him around the apartment, otherwise, Lúcio would walk into walls and trip over his own feet.

After Junkrat and Roadhog had packed Lúcio's laptop and other files they'd seen him working on, they made sure to call a cab and escort him to his meeting.

During the ordeal, Junkrat was nothing but uncomfortable. He and Roadhog stood behind Lúcio, who was seated near the end of a long table. Surrounding them were men in suits and while Junkrat was well aware of the suit weighting heavily against his skin, these men were different; these men were the type of cockroaches he'd often smash under his boot.

Lúcio looked especially tiny in his seat. Instinctively, Junkrat crept closer, ignoring Roadhog's soft, disapproving grunt and the questioning glares of the men in suits.

The meeting focused on Lúcio's tour dates. His agents wanted him to preform at several stadiums outside the city. Lúcio didn’t seem to mind, in fact, Junkrat noticed the way he instantly perked up when specific locations were mentioned. Enthusiastically, Lúcio picked out hotels (always leaning towards the most affordable, disregarding his celebrity status) and the crew members he preferred to accompany him.

They'd also mentioned expanding his contract, at which Lúcio's smile faltered.

Lúcio shook his head, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. My contract is still good for a couple more months."

"Time goes by faster than you'd expect." A man on Lúcio's left said.

Lúcio choked on his own laughter and Junkrat clenched his jaw, shifting his weight around, only relaxing when he felt the weight of his gun against his hip.

Thankfully, the subject was dropped. Junkrat was more than ready to head out and throw the tie off his neck, but before Lúcio could get up from his seat he was stopped by one last input.

"Oh…Before we forget…We're reducing the time available for your deadline."

Lúcio froze, eyes wide with disbelief, "W-what…?" He stuttered out, clearly shocked by the unexpected news, "I'm already struggling as it is!" He slammed his hand down on the table and sprung to his feet, "No! You can't keep doing this to me! I'm sick and tired of trying to meet deadlines, especially when you keep decreasing the time limit!"

The men seemed unphased by Lúcio's outburst. One of them folded his hands together and leaned forward, "There's nothing you can do about it. We need something new by next week."

Snarling, Lúcio's fingers curled into fists, "I can't keep putting out rushed projects! That's not what my fans want, and it's not what they deserve!"

"That's not our problem." The man said as he shuffled a couple of papers together, "That will be all for today, I trust you know the way out."

Junkrat feared Lúcio would fling himself across the table and knock the man unconscious with one clean hit to the jaw. Roadhog must have had the same thought in mind because he was quick to drop a heavy hand on Lúcio's back and push him out of the suddenly cramped room.

It took their combined efforts to guide Lúcio through the building without losing sight of their objective. Junkrat would've happily joined Lúcio in trashing the place and beating the shit out of his agents, but Roadhog was determined to get home without an 'unnecessary displeasure', and so, Junkrat bitterly obliged.

He tailed behind the two, occasionally glancing back at the double oak doors.

Roadhog and Junkrat knew how hard Lúcio worked. They've watched him sacrifice sleep in order to meet his deadlines. He's never failed in completing the assigned tasks within the forced time frames. He's always precise, always on time. He puts his job, his music, his fans before anything else.

He deserved a break. 

He could go back and put bullets through their heads. His fingers twitched against the hilt of his gun- There's a tiny voice in the back of his head, the _scritch-scratch_ of maggots eating the folds of his brain until their bodies are fat and heavy against the base of his thoughts- Go back...

He could go back, he could satisfy the itch on the roof of his mouth. If he could just drag his knife against their necks...If he could just scratch his name in and force them to croak out an apology...

Roadhog wrapped his thick fingers around Junkrat's thin neck and dragged him along.

Junkrat expected to find several holes in the kitchen's walls, but Lúcio had immediately sunk into the couch when they arrived home.

Head between his knees, he rocked back and forward.

Watching Lúcio thread his fingers through his hair and tug at in desperation as he mumbled incoherent phrases hurt more than having to clean after the open wounds on his knuckles. That kind of pain was physical; pain Junkrat could see and fix with a couple of bandages.

Lúcio's current distress is emotional.

Junkrat can't claw him open, he can't cut into him, dig against the flesh until it parts like rose buds and he hits and weeds out what’s causing him pain-  He can't tear it out, break it open, watch it crumble between his fingers.

He's useless.

Roadhog is better at handling these type of situations- Junkrat decides this as he lazily observed them both.

Roadhog rubbed circles against Lúcio's back, until the smaller man visibly relaxed under his massive palm. It takes hours of patience and gentle persistence, Roadhog has no trouble or issue with it; he has nowhere to be, nowhere to go, it's like he was born to be by Lúcio's side.

Within a few days, Lúcio is back to normal.

Lúcio's hair curtains his face as he slips into his red armchair and begins tapping away at his laptop. He says he's not letting a deadline bum him out. Despite the time limit, he's pouring his heart into his album, because his fans deserve the best and only the best.

Now, as Junkrat stared at Lúcio, who was busy shoving spoon-fulls of mac&cheese into his mouth, he wondered if he was about to witness Lúcio's third wave of rage.

After their conversation on the balcony, Lúcio had refused to meet Junkrat's gaze. It bothered the Junker more than he had expected it to. The silence dragged itself out for days, like a snake against his spine, he could feel its cold, rough texture press against his bones, threatening to crush his ribcage inwards with one gentle squeeze. Junkrat thought maybe Lúcio would cave, but after a week of absolute silence, he begun to doubt himself.

Junkrat didn't know how much he'd miss Lúcio's rambles until they were gone...And he'd do just about anything in order to receive one of Lúcio's groggy good mornings followed by a yawn and a smile.

"Jamison." Junkrat said.

Lúcio stopped chewing and arched an eyebrow, "What?"

"It's me name." Junkrat replied, "Jamison Fawkes."

Lúcio suspiciously eyed his bodyguard who was currently focused on his own bowl of food. He poked at it, unwilling to meet Lúcio's stare.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Junkrat's lips twisted into a pout, "Ya were all down in the dumps, figured I ticked ya off with me rubbish and endless questionin'-" He slumped forward, knocking the bowl gently to the side, "See, that's why I didn't wanna talk 'cos once I start there's no stoppin'."

"An eye for an eye. I bugged ya for personal info, so, I thought I'd tell ya a bit of mine." Junkrat continued.

Lúcio stared at the Junker for several seconds before he bursts out laughing. He pressed a palm to his watery eyes as he tried his best to subside the waves of chuckles and giggles pushing past his lips.

Junkrat frowned, "What's so funny mate?" His uneasiness was made obvious by the frantic scratching at his neck, he tugged at an invisible tie and collar that weren’t there but he'd grown accustomed to.

The DJ noticed Junkrat's discomfort. He quickly cleared his throat and coughed into a closed fist, "No, don't over-think it man, I just…It's fucked up, really."

"I ain't followin'…Explain."

"When we first met, you said you had no intentions of getting to know me. I respected that, still do." Lúcio broke eye contact and settled his attention upon the silver linings of the fork sticking out of his food. "Except during these past months I've learned about your line of work, your bad habits, the-"

Junkrat watched Lúcio's adam's apple slide upwards and downwards as he swallowed, "The shape of your body, the scars on your skin…And now, I know your name too."

It was Junkrat's turn to swallow. He dug his nails into his collarbones, flinching when he couldn’t find the itchy fabric he disliked so much.

Lucio was right.

This whole time Junkrat had been determined to keep the DJ an arm's length away but somewhere along the line he'd lost track of his plan. He'd opened up without thinking. He'd been too busy observing Lúcio he'd forgotten Lúcio could do the very same thing to him. It suddenly dawned on him just how vulnerable he'd become under Lúcio's watchful eyes.

He's left with a knot in his chest, Lúcio's voice makes it grow tighter.

"I know more about you than you know about me."

While Junkrat had openly admitted to past crimes, he hadn't noticed how secretive Lúcio was when it came to his upbringing, and background…

He hadn't noticed...until now.

Junkrat hissed, "Is this a fuckin' game to you?"

Lúcio shook his head, eyes void of the kindness he'd frequently display, "No. Of course not, I'm just making shit easier on you."

"What are ya goin' on 'bout ya kook?" 

Lúcio pinched the bridge of his nose, "Forget it."

"No. Spit it out." Junkrat demanded as he pushed away from his seat and planted his hands on the table.

Lúcio mimicked the Junker's actions.

Junkrat's face was only inches away, he was crouched low enough that if Lúcio had wanted to he could've repeatedly slammed his fist into the side of his head.

Lúcio fought back the urge to do so, instead, he tried his best to stay calm and composed but couldn't help the venom that swirled his tone,

" **Enough**. Let's just put it behind us, okay?"

Junkrat glared at the smaller man, before he sunk down in his seat, " **Fine**...Are ya done being a moody dipstick?"

Lúcio rolled his eyes and dropped to his seat with a sigh, "Oh shut up...I don't mean to be moody...I'm just under a lot of stress."

Lúcio had been working nonstop, at times, Junkrat worried he'd drop from exhaustion, but even when he or Roadhog would persuade him to take a break, the DJ refused. Though Junkrat felt a wave of relief sweep over him once Lúcio took time out of his busy schedule to eat, even it it was something as unhealthy as a bag of chips and a can of soda. Maybe that's why it was easier on Junkrat to drop the subject when he was asked to. What Lúcio needed was to replenish his energy, and a petty argument wouldn't help at all.

Junkrat bit at the inside of his cheek and decided to focus on it later.

With a soft sigh, Junkrat packed his spoon with macaroni and shoved it into Lúcio's mouth, snorting when cheese dribbled down his chin.

"Ya look prettier when yer not bitchin'."

Smacking Junkrat on the arm, Lúcio wiped at his mouth and ignored his bodyguard's crazed laughter.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"It's difficult to sleep…" Lúcio pressed his palm against the rim of his cup, staring down at the green tea through the gaps in his fingers, "I need to finish these songs before the week is over, but I can't come up with anything."

Roadhog didn't reply, but Lúcio knew he was listening.

"Sometimes I think…" He trailed off, scowling at nothing in particular, "I might as well stop composing music if it's not coming naturally anymore."

"That's the stupidest thing I've heard you say tonight." Roadhog stated before he took a sip of his tea.

Lúcio groaned and threw his head back against his armchair,  "I know, I know…I'm just tired, but I can't sleep yet." A yawn slipped past his lips,  "I'll just rest my eyes for a bit."

Again, Roadhog said nothing. He instead watched as Lúcio closed his eyes. Within minutes he was snoring softly. Carefully, Roadhog removed the mug from Lúcio's hands and draped a thick blanket over him.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Junkrat isn't sure when he starts noticing Lúcio's odd quirks. When he's nervous he tugs at his dreadlocks, sliding the beads up and down before tossing them over his shoulder, only to repeat the whole process again the moment the beads hit his back.

When he's tired, he easily falls asleep just about anywhere. He's fallen asleep in the bath more than Junkrat is comfortable with. Roadhog couldn't help but snort when he draped Lúcio's naked and wet body over his arms. Meanwhile, Junkrat hurriedly placed a towel over him, cheeks a bright red as he tried his best to not touch Lúcio's damp skin with his dirty hands. Of course, Roadhog took note of Junkrat's flustered actions and proceeds to tease him for three days straight.

When Lúcio is happy, he laughs. He laughs at Junkrat's bad puns, and ignores the way Roadhog grumbles in annoyance. He laughs at the shitty cartoons he likes to watch while he shoves handfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He laughs at his own mistakes- When he mixes a beat the wrong way, when he forgets his own signature, when he accidentally shuts his laptop without saving his work. Absolutely nothing could bring him down.

When he's stressed, he likes to lay upside down on the couch, IPod in hand and earphones in place.

He sings.

At first, it's nothing but mumbles, but after awhile, his lazy words morph into something stronger. He air guitars through the whole apartment, leaping from couch to couch, until he crashes against Junkrat. They lay on the floor, Lúcio presses an earphone into Junkrat's ear and they stay like that for hours.

Though, lately, he seems to sing less and less. He chews at his nails as he glares down at an empty notebook or at the dimmed screen of his laptop.

Lúcio says one day he'll compose something so inspiring it will be played on loop at every radio station- It will be his legacy.

Junkrat thinks its utter bullshit.

All of Lúcio's songs are worth more than all the gold in the world, and he's seen it all, he claims he's explored every inch of the earth and nothing is as beautiful or as soothing as Lúcio's music.

He says this to Lúcio one day. He's staring down at his turntables, lips drawn into a slight pout.

And then, Lúcio smiles. He leans forward and presses his fingers against Junkrat's sharp chin and chuckles,

"You really think I'm that good?"

Junkrat's heart is in his throat, he can feel it there, pulsing-

"...Better than good."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Within a day or two, Lúcio was back on track. He'd pressed himself against the window, notebook in his lap as he jotted down words he refused to share with anyone else. Junkrat had tried to sneak a peek, but had been met with Lúcio's foot ramming  itself against the shin of his good leg. 

At first, it was entertaining: Lúcio would pause to scratch at his cheek as he frowned down at his writing, and when inspiration struck he'd chuckle to himself and dragged his pen across the paper.

But after an hour, he was completely stumped. 

"This is so annoying!" He said as he threw his arms in the air and allowed his body to crash backwards against the window. He slid down just a little, grumbling under his breath, "Fuck this deadline."

Junkrat pushed aside the guns he'd been pretending to clean and focused on the distraught DJ.

"Ya've been at it all mornin', maybe ya should take a break."

Lúcio shook his head, "Don't have time for it."

"So instead ya're gonna waste another hour drawing circles in that lil' booklet of ye'rs? Sounds brilliant."

"Ugh…" Lúcio tossed his notebook to the side and ran his hands down his face, "You got me there but-" He pressed his thumbs into the bridge of his nose and sighed, "Hana isn't home. I don't exactly have anyone to go out with."

"Oh?" Junkrat tipped his head as a toothy grin split his lips open, "The famous Lúcio doesn't have friends?"

"Nah man, that ain't it." He pulled his phone out from his pocket and ran a finger down the screen, "I have plenty of people I could call up, but that doesn't mean I want to hang out with them."

The Junker's smirk morphed into an expression of confusion, "Then just go out by yerself? Ain't rocket science mate."

"That's a bit sad and pathetic…Isn't it?"

"Can't be any sadder than sittin' 'round here all day."

Lúcio gave a soft, thoughtful hum before he shrugged and got to his feet.

"Alright. I'll go take a walk, I'll be right b-"

"Woah there ya fruit cake, I'm comin' too." Junkrat said as he tucked his gun back in the holster placed slightly beneath his hip and (with much hesitation) threw his button up on.

"You don't have to… It'll be a quick walk around the block." Lúcio drew his dreadlocks into a low ponytail and placed a baseball cap over his head, "I'll be fine." Dropping his phone back into his pocket, he then made his way towards the door.

Junkrat followed closed behind as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, "Said I'm comin' too. It's part of the job."

Lúcio rolled his eyes but didn't argue. The door squeaked open under his grip, but just as Lúcio was about to step out of the apartment, Junkrat's bony fingers curled on the back of his shirt, holding him in place.

"What the fuck-"

Junkrat forced a bundled jacket into Lúcio's flailing arms, "It's nearly dark out. Ya can't go runnin' 'round like that or ya will freeze yer nose off."

Lúcio followed Junkrat's gaze- His tummy was exposed due to the pale, blue crop-top he decided to throw on that morning. He hadn't expected to go out, but even if he had made plans to do so, he wouldn't have picked a different outfit. Lúcio clutched the jacket for a second or two before he sighed in defeat and pulled it on, "Okay, mom."

Junkrat scoffed, "Look mate, if I gotta cover myself up when we head out in public so do ya."

Lúcio scoffed right back, "It's _so not_ the same thing and you know it."

"Oi, hurry up before it gets darker." The Junker pushed the smaller man through the door, ignoring Lúcio's protests as he locked the door behind them.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Lúcio couldn't help but glance back at Junkrat, who'd refused to walk besides him. He had to walk behind him, he just had to. While he understood it was part of the job (as Junkrat had insisted) Lúcio couldn't comprehend why he had to shadow his footsteps.

_Whatever._

He tried to pay it no mind.

He observed his surroundings in hopes he'd find the motivation needed to finish his project before its due date. The part of the city Lúcio resides in is quite lively at night, but on this particular evening, it's silent. He blamed the solemn weather. The skies are grey, it parts down the middle, visible gaps of faint yellow expand outwards- The sun fights through the mist of thick clouds, its radiance buried under streams of dullness. The climate promised rain, and cold winds, Lúcio is secretly thankful he decided to bring the jacket Junkrat had forced into his hands.

They venture down streets void of light.

The pavement below his red, beat up Dr. Martens is as cracked and faded as the sole of his shoe. He kicked at the loose gravel, momentarily enjoying the soft thuds and skips the rocks would omit when they collided with the sidewalk. There's a rhythm there- There, between the patters and the thumps- _bump, bump, b-_

There.

He can hear it.

A rock shoots in the opposite direction, crashing against the pole of an upcoming stop sign. Lucio's eyes flickered upwards, away from the dents in his shoes. Below the sign rests the carcass of a bird. The animal's body is consumed by ants, the insects eagerly devour what's left of the bird. Long wings outstretched, beady eyes wide open, pitch black; black like the darkness Lúcio tried to unravel minutes ago in hopes of finding the inspiration he lacked.

When had the bird stopped singing? When had it fallen? When had it's mighty wings stopped flapping?

The world was too loud and its voice was too small.

Nobody heard its cry.

When Lúcio came to a halt, Junkrat followed suit.

He swallowed, eyes narrowing when his voice is nothing but a hiss of air, "Walk besides me."

Behind him, Junkrat hesitated. Lúcio could almost hear the strings of protests Junkrat would pierce together- He had no desire to listen to them. Not tonight.

"Jamison..." Lúcio spoke, cautiously, as if the name could create holes on his tongue if pronounced incorrectly.

Lúcio turned his body slightly, and in the dull lighting, he could see Junkrat's face flow between confliction to something else- something that resembled the wide-eyed shock the dead bird held in its button eyes. It's there only for a fraction of a second before it's gone.

He nods, "I hear ya."

Junkrat shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked besides Lúcio.

-

 …ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"That's eventually going to kill you, you know?"

"We're all headin' towards the same place." Junkrat said as he drove the end of his cigarette into the floor, "Same hole in the ground."

Lúcio tapped the end of his pen against his lip and gave a soft hum of disapproval, "You're in a rush to get there?"

"Not exactly," Junkrat leaned forward, placed his elbow on the park's table they currently occupied, and plopped his chin down on his palm, thin fingers cupping the width of his cheek, "I put it out didn't I? Quit yer bitchin'. Yer just as bad as Roadie. Worse, actually."

"You went out of your way to ask a complete stranger to light it for you." Lúcio glanced down at the empty pages before him, frowned, and decided Junkrat's bored expression was a much more entertaining view, "Thought you didn't like talking."

"I don't like talkin' to _you_."

"So what are you doing right now?" Lúcio said through a cheeky grin.

Junkrat couldn't help but grin back, "Guess I'm slackin'. Gonna cut my pay?"

Lúcio chuckled, "Nah,"  He snatched the cigarette packet out of Junkrat's shirt pocket, "I'll just confiscate these for now."

As Lúcio waved the pack around, Junkrat's smile threatened to split his face in half.

_Bump, bump, bump._

-

 …ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"Roadie have you seen me toothbrush?" Junkrat asked, as he popped his head into Roadhog's room.

"You don't own one." Roadhog answered and placed the magazine he'd been reading down on the bed.

"That ain't right…I remember owning one." He scratched at his neck as he tried his best to remember the last time he'd seen his toothbrush. Currently, there was a blue cup sitting on the sink- It held only one toothbrush, and Junkrat would've assumed it was his if it weren't for the small piglets that covered the hilt of the brush.

"Yeah…Over six months ago. You refused to come shopping with me. Made me go all by myself. Asshole."

"That long huh?" Junkrat said, paying no mind to Roadhog's bitter input.

"Why do you want one anyways?" Roadhog questioned.

"Can't be wiping me teeth off with napkins all the time! Uh…" Amber eyes are drawn away from Roadhog's judging expression, Junkrat focused on the dirt lining the end of his nails, "Just thought I'd wash up…"

"Unusual."

"Oh shut up and tell me where ya keep the dam soap." Junkrat leaned against the door frame as he glared at Roadhog. Unlike the scrawnier Junker, Roadhog frequently bathed and took care of himself. Junkrat knew his friend would have soap to spare. That's if...He actually wanted to hand it over.

"I just ran out of shampoo…"

"What a coincidence…"

The bigger man shrugged and flipped through the magazine, "Guess you'll have to go buy more."

"Ya fucker...Don't think I don't see what yer playin' at."

Junkrat ignored the way Roadhog's lips quivered into a smirk.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

When he was younger, when he was smaller, Lúcio would squat down besides rain puddles and dig his fingers between the mounds of wet soil. The mud was cool against his skin, he loved the way his sneakers would _squeak-squeak_ when he rocked back and forward.

Back and forward.

He stuck twigs on the floor, built walls made of pebbles and stones. Dry leafs adorned the floors, loose feathers became elegant curtains, and bottle caps were placed at the center of each building- Lúcio thought every home deserved a dining table, one filled with warm meals and laughter.

The ball-jointed family Lúcio constructed within his imagination moved through out the city of mud and twigs without a care.

They used the spines of fish as beds, and candy wrappers as sheets.

There was a school made out of cardboard, a soggy old box which Lúcio had punctured holes through with his front teeth.

Father took his son fishing every other weekend, took him to the vast, vast, rain puddle in the middle of the city of mud and bones and sticks.

There's no fish, but plenty of miniature frogs burrow through the dirt.

His knees are dirty, and his shorts are thick, heavy, and wet against his thighs.

Oh, his mother will scold him…

Today, Rio's streets are empty, most children hide behind skirts and wooden doors- They're scared of what sits atop of the hill. They don't run up there anymore. They don't roll down anymore. They're not allowed to. Lúcio doesn't stray, he stays close enough to hear his mother calling his name. And when he runs his chubby fingers down his forehead, nose, and mouth, he tastes the salty texture of dirt against his tongue-

His hands are caked in mud.

Oh, his mother will scold him…

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Junkrat _hates_ escorting Lúcio through the mall, but he _loathes_ going in alone even more. He would've settled for the nearest convenient store but he decided that if he was going to waste money, he might as well make it worth the while. The last time he'd accompanied Lúcio and Hana to the mall the Junker had opted on entering one of the shops simply due to the smells it omitted. He watched them from afar,  but even when he stood several yards away, he could still smell the stench of soap, perfumes, and body products.

Now, Junkrat was forced to go into the dreaded store.

He was sure he stood out- A six foot tall, skinny man covered from head to toe in tattoos and a greasy suit, clearly screamed trouble, but if the shop's attendants were uncomfortable, they didn't show it. Junkrat moved through the store slowly, trying his best to read the labels on the items only to stick his tongue out in frustration when he couldn't focus on the fancy words. One of the employee's asked if she could help him when she caught him looking awe-struck at the bottles of lotions and shampoos lining the shelves. A sheepish smile curled at his lips once he admitted he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Eagerly, the girl leads him through the store, explaining what each product did and how it could be used. He followed along, nodding once in awhile, to let her know he was paying attention.

By the end of the trip, Junkrat exited the store with four bags hanging from his skinny arms.

"Picked up a few body gels for ya Roadie!" Junkrat exclaimed as he excitedly hopped from foot to foot and dumped one of the bags out on the table.

Roadhog examined one of the bottles, "Jamison…" He said softly, glancing between Junkrat's gleeful expression to Lúcio's sleeping body on the red armchair. Roadhog had advised Lúcio to leave his work for tomorrow and head to bed, but as always, he'd refused. He said he was on a roll, and continued tapping away at his laptop. A few minutes later, Lúcio's head had smacked against his keyboard and he hadn't moved since.

"Why did you buy so many?"

Junkrat shrugged and plopped himself down on the seat across, "Dunno, they smell nice." The man searched through one of the remaining bags, pulled out a brand new toothbrush, and held it out proudly, "Looky here, me very own toothbrush!" He pressed a red button on the brush, cackling when it played a melody, "Fucker sings, and the tiny brush moves all on its own!"

Roadhog sighed. While Junkrat could be awfully stingy, the smaller Junker could also be quite the ignorant shopper. Of course he'd come home carrying more than what he needed…Of course. Roadhog shook a purple tinted body wash, watching the air bubbles dance languidly through the thick syrup, "You plan on using all of these?"

Junkrat nodded, head bopping dangerously fast, "Yeah! Plan on showerin' on the daily now!"

"Why?"

"Uh…" Junkrat stopped, pushed a hand against his mouth and shrunk back in his seat, "Guess I'm just tired of smellin' like shit."

Roadhog snorted, "You've never cared before."

"Thought I try somethin' new…That's all we've been doing lately, so why not?"

Roadhog opened his mouth but before he could get anything out Junkrat interrupted him with a loud cough, "Uh…Boss will get a sore neck if we leave 'em sleeping like that," He said as he pointed a thumb towards Lúcio.

"Planned on moving him before you interrupted me."

"Sure…" Junkrat pushed away from the table and made his way through the living room. With ease, he placed one arm under Lúcio's knees, the other one behind his neck and carried him away from the uncomfortable chair.

As Junkrat carefully carried Lúcio's sleeping body, Roadhog was both amazed and...Frightened.

When had Junkrat grown to be so...soft? 

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"What's that smell?" Lúcio asked the next morning, lazily bringing his head up and away from the scattered papers on the table. His nose twitched a couple of times as he sniffed at the air, "Is it…" He paused and focused on Junkrat who shifted his weight around,  "Is it you?"

"I showered."

Junkrat didn't know what was more embarrassing: The fact that Lúcio had failed to notice his clean skin and damp hair or the fact that Junkrat had _expected_ him to notice.

Lúcio beckoned Junkrat closer. The Junker sucked on his lower lip, frowned, considered ignoring the command, but found himself sliding into the seat besides his Boss before he could change his mind. Lúcio leaned forward, only inches away from Junkrat's neck, and gave an audible sniff.

Junkrat dug his nails into the seat's cushion, breath hitched and contained within the walls of his throat. He followed Lúcio's movements, though there was so much he could see without glancing down and bashing his chin against the top of Lúcio's head.

"You smell like mangoes and…" Lúcio gave a thoughtful hum, "Pineapples…? Fruity…"

Lúcio's breath was a ghost against Junkrat's skin, goose bumps flourished down his neck and arms. Suddenly, the room grew incredibly small.

"Oi, ya ever heard of personal space?" Junkrat shoved a hand into Lúcio's face, ignoring the small whine of protest when he pushed him away.

Lúcio swatted at his hand and settled back against the chair, "Why the sudden change?"

"Geez, can't a chump take a shower without bein' hounded for answers?"

Collecting the papers into a neat pile, Lúcio stacked them together and slides them to the side, "It's different. I'd gotten used to the smell of gasoline and sweat."

"That's not somethin' ya should get used to."

"You say that as if it were a bad thing."

Junkrat toyed with the pearl placed above his belly button, " _It is_ …" His gaze flickered upwards, "Isn't it?

"No…I mean…" Lúcio knead at the small braids lining his scalp, "I didn't think it was a bad smell if that's what you're getting at."

"Hard to believe a goody-two shoes like yerself wouldn't get his knickers in a twist over nasty smellin' shit."

Lucio snickered, "Goody-two shoes? Man…You don't know me at all." He ran his thumb over his goatee, "I've experienced nasty, and you're not it." He paused and smirked, "Well…you were kinda cutting it close."

Junkrat huffed, "Oh fuck off."

Lúcio laughed at Junkrat's sour expression which was slowly cracking under the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Jokes aside…Your smell…It reminded me of home."

"Home…?" Junkrat asked softly, softer than he usually spoke.

"Home." Lúcio repeated. "Of the smoke that clung to our laundry after mama hanged it out to dry. The puddles of gasoline left behind by Viskhar tanks, the rainbow swirls  mixed with our water supply…Of the soot that stained the town's walls-" Lúcio drifted off, sighing when he caught Junkrat's amber eyes burning into the side of his head.

"That doesn't sound pleasant at all mate. Why'd ya want to be reminded of a time of war?" Junkrat mumbled, mentally congratulating himself for finally getting off his ass and hitting the shower.

"It was a bad time but…" Lúcio shrugged, "It's something we overcame. My people and I reigned superior. It reminds me of victory."

Junkrat scratched at the length of his wrist, a bit surprised when his fingernails didn't scoop up beads and rolls of filth, "Should I stop showerin' then?"

Lúcio blinked, "Are you implying you showered because of me?"

Junkrat's skin burned under Lúcio's questioning stare, "No! That ain't what I meant at all ya fuckin' idiot!"

"Okay…" he grinned, "Whatever you say."

"Wipe that stupid smile off yer mug pretty boy!"

"Scary." Lúcio snorted.

"I'll go down the alley and roll 'round in puddles of piss if ya don’t quit it, swear on me grave I'll do it!" The taller of the two pushed away from the table and wobbled to his feet. Lúcio choked on his laughter as Junkrat hobbled around the table, throwing swears and slang words Lúcio couldn't quite comprehend into the air.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

When he was ignorant, when he was a child, Lucio would watch the cities of mud he built with his own hands melt into puddles of rain.

The streets flood easily- Lucio learned this at a young age. The water licks at their knees. His mother tied the ends of her dress around her thighs and places her ten year old son on her shoulders. He appreciates the gesture but wishes he was strong and big enough to carry her instead.

She pushes through the water.

Lucio watches as it ripples around her legs.

His stomach growls, and she pats the bottom of his foot in comfort.

_We're almost there my love._

_Almost there_ , he repeats as he hides his face in the soft strands of her hair.

She smells faintly of gasoline, sweat and smoke.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"Listen to this one," Lúcio said excitedly as he pressed an earbud to Junkrat's left ear. "I worked all night on it."

The melody was a soft one, accompanied with a few notes that reminded Junkrat of the parakeets he used to own back in Junker town. It was smoother and calmer than Lúcio's other songs, not necessarily a bad thing since it still held traces of the DJ's original sound. Junkrat was sure his fans would appreciate it.

"Sounds good…Makin' me sleepy too."

Lúcio grinned, "Good, that's what I was aiming for. Something relaxing…Something that could knock out the most energetic of guys like yourself." He lowered his head as he fiddled with a few keys on his laptop, "Still, I want to piece together one more song before I can call it quits…"

"Another? Yer gonna work yerself down to the bone."

"Nah, I can handle it," He thumps his fingers over his keyboard, laughing a little at the odd tiny rhythm he created, "See! I just can't stop the beat!"

"Dork…" Junkrat returned Lúcio's smile.

_Bump, Bump, Bump._

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"So what if you're right?" Junkrat asked one late afternoon.

Roadhog is craned over the stove in Lúcio's apartment, he twists the knob and Junkrat watched as the flames licking at the pot of boiling water disappear. Throwing a rag over his shoulder, he glanced at his partner before searching the cabinets, "Right about what?"

Junkrat wrinkled his nose, "Ya know…About the _thing_."

Retrieving a box of green tea and two mugs, Roadhog set them on the counter and skillfully poured water into all of them, "Jamison…" He paused only to stir the hot drink before offering it to Junkrat who eagerly accepted it, "You're going to have to be more specific because I have no idea what you're getting at."

He blew gushes of air into the steaming cup of tea, the liquid rippled outwards. It was much too hot, and Junkrat wasn't patient enough to wait for it to cool down. With a huff, he placed the cup on the table, "Ya know!"

"I don't." Roadhog took the seat besides Junkrat and followed his line of vision. The Junker was currently glaring at the soft waves of lights slipping from underneath Lúcio's bedroom door. Tonight the DJ had gone to bed a lot earlier than usual, though it was obvious he wasn't getting any sleep done. Every once in awhile they could hear him laughing, or talking dangerously fast, and after much debate, Junkrat and Roadhog had agreed Lúcio was probably skyping Hana.

"What if…"Junkrat tore his eyes away from Lúcio's door and rubbed his palms against the crown of his forehead, "What if I do like him, like him as in, ya know…I wouldn't mind screwin' him."

Roadhog frowned, "You just want to sleep with him?"

"Yes." Junkrat quickly nodded, "Yes, ** _God yes_**."

"You can't. One night stands don't work here Jamie."

"I didn't say it would be just for a night. I want to…" Junkrat tipped his head back- If he wanted something, he obtained it, and whenever he was in the mood he had no trouble smooth talking his way into a bar and into a girl's skirt.

However, when Lúcio came to mind, Junkrat wasn't looking for a five minute fuck in a back alleyway reeking of piss and beer.

He wanted something serious.

"I want to take care of him, but not as his dam bodyguard. I want more."

Roadhog recognized the greedy glint in the younger Junker's golden eyes- Wild and reckless, like fires engulfing the scattered remains of dry branches and dead tree-trunks, until the forest is a blazing sea of red. He can almost hear the cracking and whining of burning wood in Junkrat's voice, "I need more."

"Jamie…" Roadhog warns, "He's our boss."

"Well duh. Look I ain't sayin' I'm actin' on me impulses here. Trust me, I'm holdin' back. Ya know I'm a good fellow and wouldn't jeopardize our job…But…" Junkrat shrugged, "I'm realizin' how much I appreciate him."

"Whenever you do tell him how you feel try to not start off with _I want to screw you_." Roadhog snickered as he pressed his cup to his lips.

Junkrat clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "As if I could ever confess to him, I mean, have ya seen him?" His eyes drifted back towards Lúcio's bedroom door, "He's on a whole other level."

"You're not one to put yourself down…"

"I also ain't one to shower in fruity soaps, and yet 'ere I am, totally mind fucked and droolin' like a dog in heat over a guy who won't give me the time of day." Junkrat plopped his feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair, "Never thought I'd actually be interested in someone."

"It's nice."

He snorted, "Sure, since ya aren't the one with the unrequited crush."

Roadhog shook his head, "It's nice watching you care again."

Junkrat rolled his eyes, "Don't get fuckin' used to it 'cos I'm sure it won't last."

Roadhog didn't reply and Junkrat continued glaring at Lúcio's door.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Lúcio's hands dance over Junkrat's freckled skin, fingertips trace the faded inked lines sunk deep into his arms and shoulder blades.

"This one…" He breathes, picking at the tail of a disfigured dragon. Its scaly body runs against the inside of Junkrat's wrist to the end of his bicep, "Why is this tattoo so shaky."

Junkrat follows Lúcio's fingers, they move from his arm to the dip in his tummy, "Unprofessional artists. I shouldn't have let 'em practice on me but ya know…Back in Junker town havin' tattoos is a necessity. Makes ya look all bad and scary."

Lúcio nods, and this time picks out the image of a parakeet, it's tiny blue head peeks out from the hem of Junkrat's jeans. He feels the sharp bone of the Junker's hips and retreats his hand slightly when he takes notice of just how close he is to Junkrat's crotch.

Junkrat is unbothered though, "That one I paid good money for."

"I can tell…" Lúcio could see the details within each feather, within each stroke, "Is it special?"

"Yeah…"

Lúcio examines the inked tree branches which wrap around Junkrat's slim waist, and the other various tattoos that seemed out of place, like the clouds of smoke, sketchy bottles stuffed with boats, cracked skulls, upside-down crosses and old tires on his back and arms.

There was no consistency, Lúcio liked it- A chaotic mess.

Junkrat interrupted Lúcio by pressing his fingers against the DJ's right arm. He signaled out the wide lines weaved together to form a frog, "This the only one ya have?"

Lúcio chuckles, and winks "Nah, the others are hidden."

Junkrat chokes on his own spit, "W-what do they look like?"

"Like…Tattoos."

"Smartass." Junkrat grumbles and frowns, "Then, what does the frog stand for?"

Lúcio brushes his fingers over the tattoo stretching down his arm, "Ever heard a frog sing?"

"We had loads of 'em back in Junker Town." Junkrat assures.

"Then I'm sure you've heard packs of frogs sing too, right?"

"Yeah, anoyin' little shits, don't let me catch a wink of sleep."

"Exactly. United, they're loud enough to cause a riot." Lúcio lowers his head and smiles warmly, "Loud enough to be heard."

"You miss 'em? Yer people I mean."

" _Everyday_...I miss my mother, my siblings and my people..." As Lúcio continued, Junkrat fought the urge to embrace him, "But one day...I'll go back."

The sadness in Lúcio's voice fades into a soft jingle of a laugh, "After all, they're all waiting for me to come home."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

When Junkrat and Lúcio open the door to the apartment they did not expect to find Roadhog surrounded by bubbling pots and plates stacked high with food. The air was thick with the scent of spices, chopped vegetables, and fruits, Lúcio and Junkrat both relished in the aroma. Cereal boxes and bags of chips had been put away and replaced with bowls of meats, and trays filled with various types of berries drizzled in thick lines of chocolate. It wasn't unusual to come home to a warm meal prepared by no one other than Roadhog himself, but the boys had never been greeted by such an extravagant set up.

Lúcio placed his backpack down on the floor, and threw his baseball cap on top of it, "To what do we owe the honor?"

Roadhog didn't take his eyes away from the soup he was currently stirring, "You met your deadline."

Lucio's eyes went wide with surprise, "You remembered!"

Junkrat stifled a snort, fingers already clawing at the collar of his shirt, "How could we forget? It's all ya've been doin' for a month now."

"And you knew he was cooking all of this?" Lúcio questioned.

"Kinda…" Junkrat sighed in relief when he shook off his tie and shirt, throwing the clothing over his arm before taking his seat in front of the biggest plate on the table, "I didn't think he'd go all out, I ain't complainin' though."

"Guys…" Lúcio sniffled, eyes down casted as he struggled to put the warmth blossoming in his chest into words. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't come up with anything and instead threw his arms around Roadhog's big belly. Lúcio's tiny arms could barely reach Roadhog's sides but that didn't stop him from squeezing his bodyguard as tight as he possibly could. Roadhog chuckled, and Lúcio shuddered- He could feel the rumble and brute force of his laugh underneath his cheek.

"It's no problem. It' always a good day when you and Jamison eat something besides instant soups and cereal."

Junkrat perked up at the mention of his name, and put down the chicken wing he'd been biting into, "Oi, it's not me fault I ain't allowed near the stove or else I'd be cookin' up masterpieces!"

Lúcio pulled away from the hug and rubbed at his eyes before choking on his own laugh, "Jamie you burn everything you touch."

"Pish-posh! It's got a crisp to it! CRISP!"

"No, what it has is not crispiness, its just plain uneatable." Lúcio said as he took the seat besides Junkrat and began loading up his plate with more food.

Roadhog joined Lúcio, smacking Junkrat after he raised his middle finger in the air.

Rubbing at the red spot on his arm, Junkrat spoke through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "So what's next Boss?"

Lúcio ignored the unsightly sight an placed his hand over his own mouth, "Concerts. Lots of them." He looked between Roadhog and Junkrat, "Most are outside the city though…"

"So? What's the problem?" Junkrat raised both eyebrows, "Ya know we comin' too."

"I wasn't sure if you two were okay with traveling. It's only for a week or two."

Junkrat was in the middle of chewing when he spurted out chunks of food, (thankfully none of it hit Lúcio or Roadhog) reality crashed hard against the back of his head. Frantically, he searched Lúcio's eyes, "We'll have our own room, right? Roadie and me?" 

"Yeah. I've taken care of that. My agents have booked two rooms for us." Lúcio said, a bit irritated when Junkrat swiped at his forehead and breathed obnoxiously loud as if he'd just avoided death itself.

"Good!" Junkrat didn't notice the look of pure annoyance Lúcio shot in his direction, he was much too focused on the jiggling mount of green Jell-O sitting on his newly obtained plate of desserts. He tapped the treat with his spoon and watched it dance before he tore into it.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"You don't think it's too flashy?" Lúcio ran his fingers down the jeans hugging his waist.

Junkrat recognized the clothing.

Lúcio had been right- He did look drop dead gorgeous in high waisted jeans.

Hana shook her head, "They look fine! If they didn't you know I would've never allowed you to buy them."

"Hmmm…" He continued to pick at the folds, smoothing them out with his thumbs, "You're right. I just want to make a good first impression."

"I _completely_ understand, but trust me, Genji is pretty chill. He'll love you."

"Genji? Whose that?" Junkrat had been so occupied with how nice Lúcio's ass looked that he'd missed out on half of the conversation.

From her spot in the couch, Hana turned her head towards Junkrat, "He's a friend of mine. I'm setting him up on a date with Lúcio." She giggled and popped her gum, "Well, more like Genji asked me to introduce him since he was disappointed he didn't get to talk to Lúcio."

Lúcio's cheeks grew a warm red as he laughed shyly, "He was _so_ _not_ disappointed."

"He was! He couldn’t stop talking about you! He was all bummed out when you left the party early. Apparently he'd been eyeing you the whole time!" She pressed a pink nail to her lips and smirked, "Not that I can blame him, my bestie is really hot."

"Hanaaaa…" Lúcio dragged her name out, plopped himself down besides her and kissed her cheek, "You're the sweetest wing-woman ever. I'm so lucky."

Their cooing was abruptly interrupted when Junkrat slammed his hand against the kitchen's table. Both Lúcio and Hana jumped in their seats and whipped their heads towards it.

Junkrat was fuming. Golden eyes narrowed, he glared at Hana as if she had just spat on his mother's grave,

"Are ya stupid? He can't go on a date!" He growled and stalked closer towards the couch, "He'd be in danger!"

Hana stood, hands drawn into fists, pressed firmly to her sides, "I'm not stupid! Genji's family owns several restaurants and spas. The guy has more bodyguards than I do! Besides, Lúcio doesn't need your protection!"

Junkrat sneered, "He's payin' me for it, ain't he?"

"Only because his agents forced him to!" Hana's face was a bright red as she shoved a finger into Junkrat's bony chest, "You don't have to be with him all the time!"

"It's my fuckin' job! And-" Junkrat's protest was cut short when Lúcio stood between him and Hana, and though he was much shorter than the two of them, the sour look on his face was enough to shut them both up.

"Don't talk to Hana that way again, that's an order." Lúcio's words were heavy, and cold. Junkrat almost screamed when he felt his heart falter and his stomach sink. His lips moved to form an apology but the Junker bit down on his tongue before he could utter it.

Like hell he'd apologize…

Lúcio placed a hand on Hana's shoulder, his voice softened, "But he's right Hana. It is his job. Though I do think I'll be fine for tonight so," He turns his attention back on Junkrat whose glaring daggers at the floor, "Do you think you could ease off for tonight?" 

Junkrat opened his mouth with every intention to argue, but again, Lúcio cut him off, "Jamie...I need a break. _Please_."

Lúcio's anger had sizzled into something fragile, the boy was calling out for help in his own little way and Junkrat could pretend he was deaf to it, but...He couldn't and didn't dare put Lúcio through that. With minor hints of hesitation, Lúcio wrapped his hand around Junkrat's, forcing the taller man to stare down into sad brown hues.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

"Fine, do whatever the fuck ya want." Refusing to lose face, Junkrat snatched his hand away from Lúcio's warm one and quickly made his way towards the door. Lúcio repeatedly thanked him. Junkrat didn't acknowledge it. He pulled the door open and slammed it behind him, the loud noise drowned and consumed Lúcio's gleeful voice.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

- 

When Junkrat stormed into his own apartment, Roadhog was busy enjoying a hot cup of tea.  However, when he noticed his friend's troubled expression he put his mug down and questioned him,

"What happened?"

Junkrat spat, "Fuckin' DJ is out on a date and didn't want me stickin' 'round. Fuckin' prick that's what he is."

Roadhog remained unaffected, "You don't mean that."

"But I do! It's me bloody job to keep the fucker safe! If somethin' goes wrong we'll be the ones at blame!"

"Jamie," Roadhog's gaze lowered for a fraction of a second before he sighed and continued, "I think it's time we looked for another job."

Junkrat snarled, and slammed his fist down on the table, "No! We ain't leaving a job half finished! We need to escort him to his concerts outside the city!"

"He doesn't need protecting. His agents were alarmed by the death of Lúcio's bodyguard…But, it's been over half a year now and nothing else has happened."

"I don't care! I-" He chewed on his bottom lip, "We have to stay."

"We said this would be temporary." Roadhog added with a slight snort, "Are you sure you haven't made it personal?"

"No! Don't be stupid mate, I only, I- I just…" Junkrat struggled to piece his words together and then smacked his head down in defeat, "I don't know."

He felt empty, as if someone had cut a hole in his stomach and all of his organs and guts had fallen out. The thought of Lúcio with another man made his head pulse with unwanted intrusions; he wished his brains would rot and join the pile of lungs, intestines, joints and bones at his feet. Junkrat had twisted and folded himself to Lúcio's call- His bones could snap, his bone would snap, without Lúcio here, his bones will surely crack.

What a heavy body and it's his to carry.

"Talk to him about it." Roadhog suggested with a small smile, an unusual yet comforting sight.

He pulls himself out of his mourning long enough to answer, "I think I will…Once he's back from his stupid date."

"You should've told him you liked him when you had the chance."

Junkrat's cheeks burned a bright red as he lifted his head, and glared, "Oh shut yer fuckin' mouth."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

_Oh so very small._

_Fragile._

_And scared to be abandoned._

_He's still scared of the dark._

_Has Jamison noticed Lúcio sleeps with all the lights on?_

_Has Lúcio noticed Jamison keeps his pockets packed with matchboxes?_

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Roadhog allowed Junkrat to take over his shift, said something about catching up on much needed sleep, but Junkrat knows better. He'll thank him later.

Lúcio stumbles through the front door at almost four in the morning. He blinks repeatedly once he spots Junkrat sitting cross-legged in the living room, and then he smiles.

"Yoooooooo, Rat my man, did you stay up waitin'?" His speech is slurred and his movements are languid.

Without thinking twice about it, Junkrat gets to his feet and helps Lucio sit down before he clumsily ends up tripping over empty air. When he drapes an arm around Lucio's waist, the DJ tilts his head upwards, and grins.

"Thanks…My whole world is spinnin'."

Junkrat can smell the strong aroma of cheap alcohol in Lúcio's hot breath. It tickles his cheek when Lúcio laughs, and threads a hand around his bare shoulder blade in order to keep himself balanced. At this angle, Junkrat notes the hickeys scattered across Lúcio's neck. The bite marks are a deep purplish tint, he can see the faint dent of where blunt teeth broke the skin. They disappear beneath the collar of his shirt, and Junkrat doesn't want to imagine how far down the hickeys run, but his brain gives no mercy. Behind close eyelids, he can see Lúcio's naked body shudder as unknown fingers trace the curves of his hips, the tracks of his spine, dip below the waist of his jeans, and...and God, Junkrat is going to be sick.

His stomach sinks along with his heart.

His chest aches, and he's shaking, he wants nothing more than to drop the drunken man and run away as fast as his feet will carry him, but he doesn't. He holds him tighter, until Lúcio softly protests, and presses his palm against Junkrat's thin belly. 

"...I'm gonna puke…" Voice small and faint, Lúcio moves away from Junkrat's sturdy arms and stumbles towards the bathroom. Junkrat follows close behind. Though he tries his best to keep Lúcio on his feet, he loses his grip when the smaller man comes crashing down besides the toilet. Shaky fingers grip the bowl, and the room is quickly filled with Lúcio's gagging and heaving.

Usually, the DJ wears his hair up in loose ponytails, but tonight, it spills around his head. Dreadlocks slide off his shoulders and Junkrat quickly sweeps them backwards, away from Lúcio's face. The last thing he'll want to do tomorrow is pick vomit off his hair. He pins the black locks in one hand and uses the other to rub circles against his back, much like Roadhog would do if he were here. Lúcio's shirt is wet with sweat, but Junkrat doesn't mind. Below his open palm, Junkrat can feel the way Lúcio shakes, the way his breathing cuts short every time his body lurches forward and his head sinks deeper into the toilet bowl.

When Lúcio finally settles down, he places his face against the cold seat, eyes glassy and distant. Junkrat almost expects him to drift off, but he's quite surprised when Lúcio's groggy voice cuts through the silence,

"Sorry…This is embarrassin'…"

Junkrat can't help the tiny laugh that slips away, "Nah mate, I've seen worse."

"What kinda dates have you been to?"

He shrugs, "Haven't ever been on a proper date. But if I ever do go on one I sure as hell wouldn't let 'em get trashed and not escort 'em back home." He's bitter, he wants to track Genji down and beat the shit out of him for being so carless, and if it weren't for Lúcio's state, Junkrat wouldn't hesitate in doing so. Stranger or not, he'd murder him on the spot. 

"He wanted to but he had to go…His family is strict…Needed him back home…Urgently." Lucio lazily added, "He's not a bad guy, I had fun."

_He had fun._

Swallowing, Junkrat recalls the hickeys on Lúcio's neck. With his face pressed against the toilet seat, Junkrat can no longer see them but he knows they're there, and he absolutely hates it.

He should guide Lúcio to bed. It feels wrong, almost dirty, to talk to him when he's vulnerable and unaware of what's being shared. He might not even remember their conversation come morning…

Junkrat licks at his lips and leans forward, "Do ya like him?"

If Lúcio notices the way his voice shakes, he doesn't mention it. Instead he hums, and speaks into the marble, "Don't know"

"Are ya goin' to see him again?" His heart is thumping, beating itself against its confinements.

_Bump, bump, bump…_

He wants to wrap his hands around his own throat and squeeze until his skin goes blue.

Stop talking you idiot!

"…Don't know…" Lúcio's voice breaks off and his eyelids fall close.

He wants to know more. Where did they eat? Did they have anything in common? Did he make Lúcio laugh? Where did they go after dinner? Did they go back to Genji's apartment? Or did they simply slip into one of the bathroom's stalls?

Oh...How he hates his stupid, stupid head.

Junkrat lowers his gaze and glares down at the gaps between the tiles. While he isn't one to care about anyone besides himself and Roadhog, he can't deny the concern gnawing away at him when it comes to Lúcio and his safety. He tells himself that it's part of the job. That's all. Dejectedly, he sighs and starts to stand up before Lúcio's hand wraps around his wrist. He's got a dazed look on his face, as if he's struggling to define his surroundings, but his eyes are as brown and vibrant as they are when he's found the correct note to the song he's writing.

"Why are you askin'? Do you not want me to see him again?"

Junkrat's mouth falls open. Slowly, he shakes his head, before it picks up a more aggressive sweep to it, "No! That's not it! I could care less 'bout it. I just don’t want him fuckin'  'round with my job. I can't be stuck waitin' for ya to come home every night, ya know!"

Lúcio cringes, "Your job?"

"…What _else_ is there?" Junkrat slowly asks.

"Right…" Lúcio let's go of Junkrat's wrist and sinks back against the toilet.

Junkrat runs a hand through his hair. It's soft. He's still not used to the cleanliness that comes with showering everyday.

"Come on, ya can't nap here." He says as he gets to his feet and lifts Lúcio into his arms bridal style. Lúcio doesn't argue, he simply buries his face between Junkrat's jawline and collarbones.

With ease, Junkrat carries Lúcio out of the bathroom, across the living room and into his bedroom. When he gently places Lúcio down on the mattress he almost chokes on a chuckle; Lúcio is fast asleep.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"About last night…" Lúcio said as he ran a hand down his face. He looks exhausted. His hair is pinned back in a messy bun and his eyes are bloodshot and unfocused, "Shit, I don't even remember if I said anything inappropriate but I swear, I usually don't drink or behave the way I did."

"All ya really did was puke." Junkrat answered with a small smile, eyes lingering on the trail of hickeys on Lúcio's neck…Averting his gaze, he swallowed, "Can tell ya really ain't the type to drink."

"I hadn't drank since my twenty-first birthday and that was five years ago." In his hands Lúcio carried a towel and a small see-through bag filled with soaps, lotions and other bathing goodies. He glanced between Junkrat and the bathroom, he'd been doing so for several minutes now without making an attempt to move.

"So yer twenty-six huh?" The blonde asked as he got up from his seat on the couch and moved closer. He wrapped an arm around his waist, and ignored the way Lúcio groaned in protest. With one easy movement, Junkrat scooped the DJ off his feet, carried him towards the bathroom and plopped him down on the side of the bathtub.

"Twenty-Six and I still have to haul ya 'bout like a baby." Junkrat teased.

"Oh shut up…" Lúcio huffed and then smiled, "But thanks…My head is killing me and my body hates me. It took me three hours to get out of bed…"

"That's what happens when ya drink too much." Junkrat watched Lúcio as he unpacked his shower bag and placed the bottles in the tub, "Anyways I'll-"

He's interrupted by loud knocking on the front door. At first, both Lúcio and Junkrat stared at each other before Junkrat waved a hand in the air, "I'll get it, don't ya worry about it."

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Junkrat moved towards the soft rapping of knuckles against wood. He almost expected to find Roadhog on the other side, maybe he'd forgotten his key…But when he pulled the door open he's greeted by bright green hair, and a kind smile.

"Good afternoon…I apologize for the intrusion but I came to see if Lucio is well." The man stood tall, and straight, as he continued beaming. His boyish face stood out even more under the cloud of green hair, like a twelve year old child who was trying too dam hard to rebel against his parents but it just wasn't working out. If Junkrat had to describe him, he'd call him stupidly pretty.

The Junker slouched against the door frame and crossed his arms over his naked chest, "Who the fuck are ya?"

"My apologies! Where are my manners!?" He stuck his right hand forward, "My name is Genji Shimada, and you are…?"

Junkrat stared at Genji's hand in disgust, "So ye're the prick who doesn't escort his dates back home…" He begrudgingly snorted, "Fuckin' asshole yer lucky I ain't allowed to snap yer neck."

Genji retreated his hand, his smile faltering under the weight of a scowl, "I believe that's a matter between Lucio and I…But if you must know, I offered to take him home, however, he refused."

Junkrat's curiosity was piqued, "He refused…?" It sounded like something Lúcio would do...Nevertheless, Junkrat held on to his unreasonable anger, "But if he was drunk ya should've insisted."

"What? We didn't drink when we were together…We simply shared a cup of coffee before I had to leave. He didn't want to come with me, he said he had a few things to take care of…" Genji shrugged, "He's free to do as he pleases, isn't he?"

"Well nah shit…" Junkrat muttered under his breath, "Then why the fuck are ya 'ere?"

"I asked Lúcio out and he said he had a cold so…" Genji held out the bag in his hand, "I brought him some soup."

A cold...Junkrat rolled his eyes. What was Lúcio thinking? Whatever it was, Junkrat wasn't about to throw him under the bus. If Lúcio wanted dishonesty, Junkrat would take the lie between his teeth and give birth to it through his own tongue.

Junkrat glanced between the close bathroom door to the bag Genji offered him. With a sigh, he accepted it, "He's in the shower right now…" Awkwardly, Junkrat scratched at his neck with his free hand. Now that he understood the situation a bit better Junkrat was well aware that his rudeness towards Genji had been uncalled for but he'd rather choke on his own tongue than apologize, "Stop by later, maybe he'll be 'round then."

"Thank you." Genji bowed his head, paused for a brief second before turning on his heels. Junkrat watched him disappear down the hall, making sure he really was gone. When he closed the door, he leaned against it and glared at the bag in his hand.

If Lucio hadn't been with Genji last night…Then who had he slept with?

His stomach curled, and ached. It was none of his business….And yet…

Lúcio hadn’t bothered telling him what exactly happened the previous night, and Junkrat was in no position to question him. He made it home safely and that was all that mattered.

So why did Junkrat feel so hurt?

He couldn't shape his feelings into words and he refused to linger on it.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

_Oh so very …empty._

_Alone._

_And abandoned._

_Lucio wonders if Jamison has taken notice of the ongoing game between them._

_Jamison doesn't want to lose._

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The trip to the airport was a messy one. Lúcio had slept in, and though Roadhog had tried to wake him up, they ended up tripping over their own feet in an attempt to throw in clothes, shoes, and other necessities into their open suitcases.

Lúcio's hangover had dulled itself down to an annoying headache, but it was enough of a pain to ruin his whole day.

Junkrat on the other hand, had found the whole situation amusing.

Nevertheless, their tardiness was an obstacle they overcame, no thanks to Junkrat. They caught their flight minutes before its departure. Though other passengers stared and whispered as a very sweaty Lúcio and his freakishly tall bodyguards rushed in, the DJ was much too tired to care.

He was greeted by the same looks when they stepped foot into the first hotel they'd be occupying. The receptionist glanced nervously between the three men, and shakily handed Lúcio the key to their rooms. Junkrat's smirk only grew sharper as he hovered behind Lúcio, something the shorter man took notice of. The girl quickly bowed her head and Lúcio elbowed Junkrat on the ribs for the unwarranted display.

Junkrat obviously enjoyed inflicting fear, but Lúcio did not appreciate the gesture. With a low growl, Junkrat followed after Lúcio and ignored the way Roadhog chuckled as he trailed behind the other two.

As promised, Lúcio's room was connected to the one Roadhog and Junkrat would be sleeping in.

They ate together, and spent the free time Lúcio had after concerts together, but once night time rolled around, his two bodyguards would make sure Lúcio's doors were shut tight and the room was secure before excusing themselves.

It was when Lúcio laid in bed that he realized he missed their presence. He'd grown accustomed to waking up and spotting Roadhog just a couple a feet from where he slept. Sometimes he'd wake and find Junkrat instead of Roadhog. They never spoke, but there was always someone there, watching over him.

He groaned and placed his arm over his eyes as he tried to grow accustomed to the hotel's eeire silence. For fuck's sake, he was a grown ass man. He didn't need anyone watching over him…And yet, the cruel loneliness crushing his ribs inwards was enough to keep him awake.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The next morning, the dark rings under Lúcio's eyes had Junkrat and Roadhog hunched over the small man.

"Ya nervous?" Junkrat asked as he pressed his thumbs against Lúcio's cheeks.

"Sort of." Lúcio lied, and leaned into the touch. Thankfully, the other two did not question him.

As for the concerts, they all flowed smoothly. Like always, Junkrat was bored. The crowds were much too tame for his liking but he had to admit he was growing accustomed to the calm scenery. It also meant Lúcio wouldn't be in any immediate danger, somehow, that put the carefree Junker at ease.

During Lúcio's fourth concert, somewhere near the sea, Junkrat was positioned by the stage. Roadhog had claimed he could take care of the rest himself since the stadium wasn't as big and packed as previous concerts had been. 

From his spot, Junkrat had the perfect view of Lúcio. He realized he'd never been close enough to see the DJ at work, but now, he had a front row seat. He observed as Lúcio tied his hair back, switched between discs and ran his fingers down his turntables. It started out rather mellow, soft. A light yellow hue over took the stage and ran through Lúcio's outspread fingers. The stadium was filled with Lúcio's music, a song Junkrat recognized. He remembered watching over Lúcio as he tapped away at his keyboard, feet swinging off the balcony. He'd pressed an earbud into Junkrat's ear, and laughed happily when the Junker had congratulated him on finishing yet another masterpiece for his upcoming album.

Now hearing Lúcio preform it and watching his fans move to the music, Junkrat was overwhelmed. Positioned in the middle of it all, Lúcio looked like a God. These people moved to his beat, to the sounds he'd pieced together, to the music he'd written- They followed him without hesitation. Like puppets in a sea of sweat and alcohol, they cheered and screamed Lúcio's name, over and over and over again. Lúcio smiled as he scratched at the tables, and the music rippled into something he'd find lurking in a bottomless ocean filled to the brim with glow in the dark starfish. Green- shockingly jaded green, the type which runs down his wrists and spreads out like tree branches.

Lúcio's hair came undone, but he doesn't stop, even when the beads hit his face as he moves to his own sound. He's glistening, and Junkrat's chest is tight- There's a knot in his throat, the urge to claim what's his sits heavy in the gut of his stomach.

_Mine, mine, mine…_

He wants to pin Lúcio against the booth and run his nails down his skin until it gives away under his touch.

Junkrat tugged at his tie, grunting when the dam thing only grew tighter in his clammy grip. His breath was an unsteady stream of hot steam, and the sensation of needles digging into his scalp only grew worse as the concert dragged itself out.

Once Lúcio stepped down from his overly glorified throne of stage lights and smoke machines, Junkrat escorted him past the frantic assisting make-up and clothing crew and into the DJ's dressing room. Automatically, Lúcio crashed against the sofa pressed against one of the room's walls. Taking one long gulp from the cold water one of his assistants had handed him, Lúcio drank down the liquid until the bottle was left empty. Some of the water slid down his mouth, the small stream joining the beads of sweat coating his neck.

Junkrat shifted his weight- Where the fuck was Roadhog at? He should be here by now!

Lúcio noticed Junkrat's uneasiness, "You okay?"

"Uh…Just don't feel too hot."

"Oh?" Lúcio stood and closed the distance with a couple of steps. He stood on his tip-toes and pressed the back of his hand to Junkrat's cheek, frowning when he realized he was much too short to reach Junkrat's forehead, "You feel fine to me."

"Here…" Junkrat wrapped an arm around Lúcio, the smaller man stumbled forward, allowing Junkrat to lower himself in order to press his forehead against Lúcio's.

Lúcio went wide eyed, lips set apart as he breathed in. He craned his head upwards, nose bumping against Junkrat's, as he whispered, "You do feel warm…Are you sick?"

"Maybe…" Junkrat whispered back. He licked his lips, it crossed his mind that if he were to move an inch closer he could run his tongue down Lúcio's lips, past his chin, until he could sink his teeth into the side of his neck.

Before his impulsiveness could overtake him, Junkrat pushed away, leaving behind a very confused and dazed Lúcio. Junkrat opened his mouth to explain but before he could get a word out Roadhog stepped into the room.

Lúcio snapped right out of it once he saw the other man, "Yo! Good concert, wasn't it?

Roadhog nodded and handed Lúcio yet another water bottle and threw one at Junkrat who swiftly caught it out of the air and into his hand. He was quick to take the cap off and drink it down, anything to keep himself busy. Lúcio seemed to have the same thing in mind because seconds later he was chugging the water as if it were his last drink.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"Maybe we can come back at a later time…Sucks we didn't get to hit the beach." Junkrat said as he poked his nose and wiped it off on his pants.

Roadhog nodded in agreement and then slapped Junkrat on the arm.

"I don't know how to swim…" Lúcio confessed as he observed the sea through the car's window.

"Ya don’t say…No biggie, we'll teach ya." Junkrat patted Roadhog's belly, who glared down at the Junker's filthy hands, "Roadie here will be your personal floatie."

 Lúcio snorted, "Sounds like a blast." He turned away from the window and ran his fingers down the screen of his phone. "We'll come back."

Junkrat stuck his thumb in his chest, "It's a promise!"

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Lúcio's last concert was nothing but exhausting.

They've been hopping from hotel to hotel due to how far apart the stadiums were located. They were always on the road, and when they weren't, they were busy helping Lúcio get on stage. Reaching the hotels and having a few hours to rest was always a huge relief to the boys, but the tension that followed Lúcio's last concert was one they could've gone without.

Junkrat noticed the problem as soon as they arrived.

"Where's our room?" He asked as he glanced around for the door that would lead to the combined room Roadhog and he would claim as theirs.

Lúcio frowned at the receipt in his hands, "It says here we should have combined rooms but…" He shrugged and tucked the paper into the back pocket of his shorts, "I'll go talk to them."

Junkrat sat crossed-legged on one of the two beds as Roadhog followed behind Lúcio. He resisted the urge to lay back and close his eyes. He's tired, and from the dark rings under Lúcio's eyes, Junkrat can tell he's tired too. Roadhog seemed to be the only one getting enough sleep, but Junkrat knew the big guy was running on caffeine and tea.

One more night, then they could go home.

While it had been great to see Lúcio in action, Junkrat missed the warmth of his own bed. Though he could only hope Lúcio would remain as upbeat as he currently was when they returned. The DJ had been more than cheerful these past few days. He was up and ready to go as soon as the first ray of sunshine poked through the hotel's window, almost as if it were a silent challenge, one Lúcio refused to lose.

It had been nice to know Lúcio was feeling his best, and it had been even nicer to experience the extend of his happiness first hand. 

Junkrat was nodding in and out of sleep when Lúcio and Roadhog stepped back into the room. Instantly, Junkrat perked up, slightly embarrassed when Roadhog shoots him a certain kind of look.

_No sleeping on the job._

"So did ya fix it?"

"Well…" Lúcio twiddled his fingers, "They say it was their mistake. They gave us back our money because they're currently booked so…There's no extra rooms."

If Junkrat hadn't been fully awake before he was now. He sat up straight, and planted his hands on the bed as he leaned forward, "What!? Does that mean we-"

Lúcio nodded, "We have to share the room."

Junkrat hopped to his feet, cringing when he put all his weight on his bad leg, "No way! No!"

Rolling his eyes, Lúcio crossed his arms over his chest, "It's just for tonight Jamie."

"No." Junkrat repeated to which Roadhog grunted.

"Jaimson don't be difficult. There's nothing we can do. One day won't kill you."

Once Roadhog sided with Lúcio, Junkrat dramatically flopped back on the bed and ran his hands down his face. Betrayed by his own partner...

"Alright but Roadie and I will share a bed." He said after a few moments of silence.

"No. One bed isn't big enough for the two of us." Roadhog answered as he took a seat on the bed next to the one Junkrat was currently sprawled on.

"He's right…" Lúcio smiled warmly as he flopped down besides Junkrat, who instantly rolled away, accepting his fate as he fell off the bed and onto the floor. Lúcio peeked out from the edge of the bed and glared at the Junker, "It's not _that_ bad."

"It is _that_ bad…" Junkrat mumbled, and picked himself off the floor, "I just…"

Lúcio sat with his legs tucked underneath him, a slight pout tugged at his lips, "I promise I don't drool or snore."

"That's not the problem-" Junkrat shook his head, "Fuck, forget it. I need a drink."

He did not look back as he headed out of the room.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Junkrat didn't come back until the lights in their rooms were turned off. He knew Roadhog would scold him later, if not as soon as he stepped foot inside, but when he opened the door he was greeted by loud snores.

Roadhog was fast asleep.

Throwing off his shirt and kicking away his boots, Junkrat sat on the bed's edge. He considered adding his pants to the pile of clothing at his feet but he doubted Lúcio would appreciate waking up next to a half naked bodyguard. 

With a weary sigh, his head hits the pillow and he tucked his legs under the bed's comforter, making sure to keep his movements to a minimum as to not stir Lúcio from his sleep. Junkrat is painfully aware of just how close Lúcio rests…He screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus on Roadhog's snores.

"Why did you leave?" Lúcio's voice is a soft whisper, low enough that at first Junkrat thought he imagined it. Rolling over, Junkrat came face to face with Lúcio. Half of his face is buried in the mossy green pillow below his cheek, despite it, Junkrat can tell Lúcio isn't happy.

"Felt stuffy in 'ere is all." Junkrat whispered back.

Lúcio's face twisted into a grimace, "Gross…You stink of alcohol…How much did you drink?"

"Not a lot…" Junkrat thought back on the three or four Whiskeys he'd gulped without a breath to spare.  "Don't worry 'bout it. I'll be all sharp and sparklin' for tomorrow, I know how to handle me drinks... _Unlike others_."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'. Go back to sleep mate."

"No." Lúcio sat up, his dreadlocks sliding down his shoulders and curving around the joint of his elbow, "Tell me."

" **Fine.** " Junkrat replied sharply, "Where did ya go on the night ya ditched yer bodyguards for the pretty, rich boy?"

"You mean Genji?" Lúcio frowned, as he searched his head for the information Junkrat demanded to know, "I went out with him and came home afterwards. That's all."

"He said he didn't take ya out drinkin'. That was all yer doin'."

"I-" Lúcio stuttered, "Well yeah he's right…But I can't remember what I did after he had to go home…" He tugged on the beads placed at the end of his dreadlocks, a look of confusion settling against his brow, "I think I might have stopped by a bar."

"Ya did." Junkrat stated with a slight huff, and propped himself up on the headboard, "Ya were so outta of it, ya probably didn't notice all 'em hickeys on yer dam neck."

"How could I not notice?" Lúcio asked in disbelief, "I'm not blind!"

"So?"

"So what!? Jamie you're not making any sense!"

"So how could ya go 'round makin' out with random strangers!?" Junkrat's whisper quivered into half a scream, "Ya could've gotten hurt!"

"Oh my god! It was something so brief and insignificant! And who said it was a stranger? Maybe it was Genji!"

"Was it Genji?"

"No" Lúcio scratched at his neck, a bit peeved that Junkrat had called him out on his bullshit, however, it didn't stop him from pressing on. "…But it could've been!  It doesn't mater who it was because it didn’t mean anything."

"Stop it." Junkrat hissed.

"Stop what?"

"Just…Stop it. Stop fuckin' with random kooks." Junkrat pushed forward, long bony fingers threading into the sheets as he moved closer to Lúcio. "It pisses me the fuck off knowin' anyone besides me is anywhere near ya-"

_**Bump.** _

Junkrat pressed a hand against Lúcio's cheek, running his thumb over the curve of his jaw.

"Ye're mine."

_**Bump.** _

He waited; waited for Lúcio to push away, but when he moved closer and draped an arm around Junkrat's neck, all of his doubts and insecurities float away.

_All mine._

_**Bump.** _

Lúcio gently pecked at Junkrat's lips, a silent request- A request Junkrat greedily accepts by deepening the kiss. His teeth scrape against Lúcio's bottom lip. It's sloppy, messy, and desperate, as if they're stealing the air from each other's lungs, drinking it down, gulp by gulp.

Lúcio's hands thread through Junkrat's hair, locks of gold twist through his fingers. He grinds against Junkrat, a wave of excitement runs down his spine when the Junker whimpered. 

They tumble downwards, Junkrat crawling on top of Lúcio. He positioned his knee between his legs, nudged him until Lúcio moaned out, the sound muffled within Junkrat's mouth. He breaks the kiss, chest heaving and heavy with the sound of his fleeting heart. Lúcio rests below him, eyes blown wide- Junkrat dove downwards, and buried his nose in the crook of Lúcio's neck.

He bites down.

Lucio's fingers curl, his fingernails scraping against Junkrat's scalp.

He can hear it, he can feel it against his tongue, the loud rumble between the man's ribs and veins- Lúcio's heart.

**_Bump, bump, bump._ **

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Waking up besides Lúcio was something Junkrat could get used to. When he opens his eyes and finds the man cradled in his arms, Junkrat ends up smiling like a fool.

It's too good to be true. He might still be dreaming...Never had he expected to kiss Lúcio, much less, have Lúcio reciprocate and kiss him back. He ran his fingers down Lúcio's cheek, watching as his long eyelashes quivered under his touch.

He doesn't want to move, he doesn't want to wake Lúcio up, but he knows if he doesn't, Roadhog eventually will.

Though they didn't venture past a few kisses, Junkrat worried Roadhog had woken up somewhere in between but if he'd seen or heard anything he didn't mention it. At least, not yet.

The other bodyguard had left the room sometime in the early morning, only giving Junkrat a wave as he slipped past the door.

Junkrat pressed a kiss to Lúcio's forehead, grinning when the smaller man stretched and groaned.

"Mornin'…" Junkrat said, to which Lúcio smiled.

Hiding his face against the freckled skin of Junkrat's chest, Lúcio replied, "Morning…My breath stinks so…"

"Seriously? Ya think I care?" And to prove his point, Junkrat pushed his hands against Lúcio's cheeks, and brought his head up and away from its hiding spot and lightly pressed their lips together.

There goes his heart again- Every nerve in his body is on fire.

Lúcio chuckled and pulled away, "Alright, alright…Enough, I have to get ready."

"Right…Last concert tonight. Ya excited?"

"More like…A bit bummed. I don't want it to end." Lúcio said as he unwrapped Junkrat's long arms from his waist and made his way towards the bathroom.

Junkrat called after him, "They'll be more in the future, don't ya get too down about it."

Lúcio didn't reply.

Junkrat thought he hadn't heard him over the sound of water splashing against the bathroom's sink.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

This time around Junkrat was stuck guarding the tail of the stadium, though he didn't really mind. Upon the stadium's bricked wall sat three flat screens, all of which held perfect video of Lucio's face. No matter where Junkrat stood, he always had the best view.

He watched as Lúcio jumped up and down, the most concentrated of looks firm against his brow which would crumble to reveal a warm smile every other minute.

During the concert, he could lean back and observe the people. So far, everything had ran it course. As always, it was calm. The only time he had to be alert was during closing. It was his job to make sure Lúcio made it off the stage without getting harassed or stopped by a stray fan- Thanks to Junkrat, that never was a problem. Junkrat knew how to keep Lúcio secure, and of course, Roadhog helped too.

As the show neared its end, Junkrat pushed past the crowd gathered around the stage, more than ready to take Lúcio under his arm and escort him to his dressing room. Half way there, he hears the scratch of a record, the drop of a beat and then...Static.

Lúcio's voice comes over the speakers. Soft, so soft, at first, it's hardly audible over the sound of fading music.

Junkrat's head snaps upwards as Lúcio adjusts the volume.

"I like to thank everyone for showing up, really, I couldn't do this without you guys."

Junkrat frowned, as he tried his best to push through…Lúcio had said all of this earlier, had he forgotten? Was he feeling alright?

His concerts followed a strict pattern...This wasn't right.

Lúcio pressed the mic on his head-set closer to his lips, head falling forward slightly as he continued, "But I'm afraid this will be my last concert."

Junkrat froze.

"After tonight, my contract ends and I have no intentions in signing a new one. I'll be heading back to Brazil in a few months where I hope to continue my career to the best of my ability as a solo artist." Lúcio pressed a hand to his heart, "I sincerely can not express how thankful I am for these last few years…I hope all of you continue to support me through it all. Thank you."

How many times had Junkrat thought of ditching the bodyguard gig? He'd lost count. He'd tell himself he'd leave the next day, but he never did.

He never thought Lúcio would be the first to find the exit.

He never thought Lúcio would leave.

Silence falls over the stadium as Lúcio exits the stage, and then, chaos. People are pushing past Junkrat, shoving him to the side. His bad leg gives out underneath him, and he falls with his palms outstretched. His hands grip at nothing, there's nothing there, only the cold, and sticky residue of someone's spilled drink. No one offers to help him up, so he stays with his knees pressed to the ground. Maybe they don't take notice, but Junkrat feels the ends of heels digging into his fingers, twisting the flesh under their weight. A bone or two snaps- That's going to hurt later...He'll feel it later.

He'll feel something later.

Cries of confusion, pleads, and threats ring in Junkrat's ears, but all he can focus on is the weird, painful clicking in his chest.

Like the struggle of a rusted motor refusing to play its part, it _clicks, clicks, clicks._

It's no longer beating, the _bump, bum-_

It's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first i'd like to thank the lovely comments i got on this fic, it makes me so happy that you guys take your time to say something nice and i'd reply to everyone if i wasn't so bad at doing the talking thing, but anyways, thank you <3  
> second of all, I uh, don't know a thing about writing so excuse my typos!  
> and lastly, as some of you probably noticed i take my sweet, sweet time writing these out and i sure love sticking to drabble format...BUT IM TRYING 
> 
> but anyways thank you for the kudos and the comments, please continue leaving them, they keep me healthy and strong!!


	3. The third Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :^)

 || _i can hardly remember, just the smell of your hands, as they danced on my body, running over my pores_  
_with the force of a steering wheel crushing my bones_ ||

 

Jamie stares at his mothers lips as they curve and move. His eyes drift from the lipstick staining the tip of her teeth to the empty birdcage above her head. Small band-aid covered hands wrap around the loops of her jeans, he pressed his face against her legs and cried.

His body shakes, sob after sob.

Fat tears roll down his cheeks as she dropped to her knees and pressed a messy kiss to his forehead.

_I didn't know… I didn't know…_

She swiped her thumbs under his eyes, his tiny fingernails dug moons into her wrists as he pulled away from her embrace to stare at the creaking birdcage.

It swung in the air, back and forward…

He had only wanted to play with the bird, he hadn't expected it to bite his fingers.

He had only wanted to place it on the floor for it looked oh so very cramped in its rusty prison.

He had only wanted to watch it stretch its wings, he hadn't expected it to fly away.

In his mind, in his five year old head, he couldn't fathom what abandonment was, he couldn’t understand how something you loved, something you watched grow could spread its wings and leave without glancing back. He had stared at the cage in shock for several minutes after the bird's departure.

He had expected it to come back.

But of course, it didn't.

It had been Mama's favorite bird, her only companion.

She'd sit besides its cage and whistle the same tune she'd hum into the shell of Jamie's ear when his head was a stone plunging through oceans of sleep.

Now it was gone and it was all his fault.

_I-I'm sorry Mama…_

Oh his heart was heavy and his chest was heavier.

She rubbed the dirt off his knees and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling the child into her arms again.

_It's alright Jamie. Stop your crying child.Oh hush now, hush, for I still have you, and that's all I need._

_-_

_…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ..._

_-_

"I'm worried…" Lúcio stated as he folded the last of his sweatshirts and stuffed it into his backpack, "It's been two days…We can't wait around forever."

"We're not." Roadhog replied as he slung his own bag over his shoulder, "Jamison will come back when he's ready."

"…He's being an asshole…" Lúcio said under his breath.

"He has his reasons as you have yours."

"Yeah…But…" The green backpack hits the floor, seconds later, Lúcio joined it. With his knees pressed to his chest, he tangled his fingers into the braids sliding off his shoulders, "I can't help but think I fucked up."

Glancing between the distraught man and the slightly ajar door, Roadhog sighed and slowly lowered himself besides Lúcio.

Lúcio moved closer, until their arms were touching.

Roadhog didn't mind.

"When Jamison and I were younger we used to guard a six year old girl. Her father was never home, but he had cash to spare…Jamison…" Roadhog paused, eyes drawn to the doorknob, as if he expected Junkrat to run into the room and point an accusing finger in their direction the moment Roadhog uttered anything regarding his past. But Junkrat did not show up, and so, Roadhog continued, "Jamison grew attached to the child, he loved her like he would his own daughter. I never thought he'd be good around kids."

He chuckled. "But I was wrong."

"She loved him and he loved her." Roadhog glanced down at his open palms, "He was the father she never had."

"Did something happen to her?" Lúcio softly asked.

"No…" Roadhog hesitated, "I believe she's fine."

"You sound uncertain."

"Her father was a shady business man. Jamison grew interested in finding out what kept the girl's dad so busy that he could never spare his own daughter a moment of his time, but after weeks of unsuccessful trails, Jamie settled for looking after the girl. His attentive and caring behavior was unusual. But I didn’t complain. Though it was unsettling, it was a change I could appreciate. For over a year, everything was perfect."

Lúcio stayed silent, much too entranced to speak. It was rare hearing Roadhog talk so openly and Lúcio did not want to ruin the moment or the story Roadhog spun between the curve of his hands.

Roadhog continued.

"One morning, the girl's father frantically ran into the house. He claimed people were after him. He was a mess and reeked of alcohol…Instantly, Jamison stood his ground, and shield the girl with his body. Her father wanted to take her away, and when Jamison said we'd join them her father refused….He held us at gunpoint. He was convinced we were his enemies." Roadhog snorted, rubbing the bags under his eyes with his fingers, "One measly gun was not going to stop Jamie. At a distance, we followed after their footsteps…For months, we trailed behind the two, until we lost track of them."

"Till this day, I'm not sure when it happened or how it happened. It was like the earth split open and swallowed father and daughter whole…And though Jamie spent two years trying to find her, he never did. He stopped taking care of himself, he wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep. For his sake, I had to step in. I found us another job thinking Jamie could use the distraction but...He grew reckless."

"Was that how he burned his leg?"

"Yes. He didn't seem to care what happened to him, even when his leg was badly injured, Jamie laughed like a mad man. He said he was only around to blow shit up and slit throats. I couldn't convince him otherwise, nor could I stop him."

"I see…" Lúcio kept his eyes trained on the lines running across his palms, much too overwhelmed to piece a proper reply.

Junkrat's dramatic response to Lúcio's recent announcement made sense.

"He's got me all wrong…" Lúcio mumbled, smiling sadly as he glanced up at Roadhog who only shrugged.

"I don't know what your intentions are, but I do know Jamison's."

Lúcio nodded, and crawled to his knees to place a hand on Roadhog's cheek. The bodyguard's eyes went wide with surprise before they narrowed on Lúcio's outstretched fingers.

"Then what about you Mako? I now understand Jamie's side of it, but you were also the girl's bodyguard…It must have hurt you too."

For a few moments, Roadhog looked confused, as if no one had ever taken the time to ask him how his day was going, as if no one had ever taken the time to display a shred of affection towards him.

Roadhog's expression softened as he pressed a hand against Lúcio's, "I'm fine."

Lúcio tilted his head to the side, dreadlocks slide past his shoulder, the beads hit Roadhog's belly with an empty  _thump._

"Are you really? You loved her and she loved you…She was like a daughter to you, wasn't she?"

"Right…" Roadhog chuckled, "But I'm sure, wherever she is, she's doing fine…"

He brushed Lúcio's palm aside, but not without giving it a gentle pat, "She had two mean Bodyguards-  _two fathers_  -who raised her well."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

When the moon sat high in the night sky, he remembers sneaking into his mother's room. The small  _pitter-patter_  of feet hitting cold pavement as Jamie wondered the long hallway's of his grandfather's home, coming to a stop only when he'd reach his mother's bedside.

Tiny fists thread through the sheets, bum in the air as he struggled to haul himself upwards.

He brushed golden curls of hair aside and pressed his ear to her chest. He holds his breath, and listened…

_Listen…_

Listen to the weakening echo of her heartbeat.

Hardly there, flickering, hauntingly so...

He listened.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

After a week of waiting, Lúcio finally managed to sleep. He wakes up with a headache, and he's half tempted to nestle deeper into the soft sheets of his bed and sleep through the day, but his stomach protests.

Groggily, Lúcio dragged himself out of bed, and into the kitchen.

There's not much to eat, and he doesn't have the energy or devotion to stand by the stove and warm something up. He settles for the lone box of lucky charms sitting atop of the fridge. He could pull out a bowl and eat a proper breakfast, but he prefers to dig through the cereal. Plopping down on the couch, he struggles to dismiss the wave of utter disgust that plagues him once he realizes how pathetic he was.

Here he is, on a Friday morning (dangerously close to an uneventful afternoon) in his pink boxers, eating cereal straight out of the box. His head hits the back of the couch and he groans, loud and exhausted.

Roadhog left sometime in the early morning, and he wouldn't be back for another hour or so.

**Fuck.**

He rubs at the small patch of hair under his lip and turns his head to stare at the open window leading to the balcony.

On a regular day, Junkrat would be leaning against the railing, cigarette between his fingers as puffs of smoke snaked past his lips. If he caught Lúcio staring, he'd smirk and cackle, at which Lúcio would roll his eyes at.

He could almost hear the Junker's cocky tone,

_Like what ya see?_

Lúcio wished he would've had the courage to say something, anything. Instead he'd reply with a soft click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

He missed him…He missed Jamison.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

_Little boy ya have to understand yer not the only one feeling anxious over the bullshit that's attached to growing up._

Old, old hands, ragged and worn and lumpy with age press against Jamie's knees. He stares at his grandpa with wide, wide eyes as the old, old hands carefully pick glass shards out of the gaping red, red wounds stretching wide across Jamie's legs.

_Little boy ya have to understand the things ya've learned along the way are nothing compared to the things ya'll experience later on in life._

Strings of snot run down Jamie's button of a nose. He swipes his dirty sleeve over his face, wrinkling his brow in disgust when he sniffs the filthy fabric. His cheeks are stiff and heavy…He's done crying but only because his grandfather would scorn him if he were to continue weeping.

It hurts…The cuts and blemishes scattered throughout his legs and thighs burn, they burn, they burn…He tells himself he'll be more careful next time, he promises he won't be reckless, he will be attentive.

He says he won't make his grandfather's hands shake as he tries to clean the bloody flesh under his old, old, palms. He won't make him strain his eyesight as he struggles to pick out the glass in Jamie's red, red cuts.

 _Ah…_ Tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He might just overflow, he might just burst into water and drown their tiny city.

_Little boy ya have to understand one day ya'll be on yer own and I won't be there to take care of ya…_

His grandfather's mustache is itchy against his forehead, as he whispers,

_Take care of yerself little Fawkes._

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

When Lúcio finally finds Junkrat it's only because Roadhog tipped him off.

He caught the Junker sneaking out of his own apartment, backpack slung over his bony shoulder.

Lúcio tripped over his feet in an attempt to wrap his hand around Junkrat's wrist. He falls to his knees, the loud noise of his hands smacking against the floor caused Junkrat to jump two feet in the air. When he noticed Lúcio, his shocked expression quickly turns cold and sour.

With an embarrassed smile, Lúcio picks himself off the floor, choosing to pay no mind to the way Junkrat's eyes flickered away in annoyance.

Junkrat tossed him one final glance before he turned on his heels and began to walk away.

Automatically, Lúcio rushed forward,

"Wait, wait! I need to talk to you."

When Lúcio's fingers wrapped around Junkrat's arm, he froze. Lúcio was surprised when the taller male didn't push past him but instead exhaled a throaty, resigned sigh,

"Fine…What ya want to talk 'bout?"

"You know exactly what I-" Lúcio bit down on his tongue.

No, he wasn't going to argue.

_Try again._

"Look, what happened at the concert was a huge misunderstanding." His voice was steady, each word mouthed slowly.

Junkrat withdrew his arm from Lúcio's grip, pacing in place before throwing his hands in the air as an ear-splitting cackle stumbled past his mouth, "How was it a misunderstandin'? Ya made it fuckin' clear yer leavin'. Seems simple enough to me."

Lúcio scratched at his neck, "Okay so maybe the announcement was pretty straightforward but-"

"When were ya gonna tell us? Were ya plannin' on ditchin' us without a warnin'? Cos that's what it looked like."

"I was going-"

Junkrat stepped forward, nearly knocking Lúcio to his feet, but before the startled DJ could fall, Junkrat wrapped a strong arm around his wrist, "Tell me, was I just another stupid fellow ya decided to fuck 'round with only so ya could forget 'bout it later? Is that all ya know how to d-"

Lúcio swung his fist into Junkrat's face, knuckles slamming against the curve of hard bone. Junkrat stumbled backwards, hands clinging to his nose. Strings of red flowed down his fingers as he stared at Lúcio, wide eyed and tongue-tied.

Junkrat can't overlook the flash of rage in Lúcio's brown eyes; the blind anger he sees swirling in the depths of his irises is enough to turn his insides to stone.

"Don't you **ever** disrespect me like that again." Lúcio cleaned his quivering hand off on his shirt, his chest slowly expanded inwards and outwards in a clear attempt to stay calm, but the cold tone of his voice betrayed his peaceful intentions, "What happened between us was real." Lúcio bit down on his lip, hard enough to break the skin. There's more he could say, piercing arrow-like words made only to inflict damage, but Lúcio is strong; despite the temptation to lash out he fought tooth and nail to remain tranquil.

"Then why the fuck are ya packin' up yer shit and leavin'!?" Junkrat hissed through his hands.

"It **wasn't** an impulsive decision Jamison! I thought about it for months! _Months_! It had absolutely nothing to do with you!" Lúcio spat back with every ounce of poison, with every ounce of white, sizzling venom clinging to the walls of his throat.

"IT FUCKIN' HURT!" Junkrat screamed at the top of his lungs, blood stained fingers falling from his face to tug at the collar of his shirt. Rapidly, he undid the first few buttons and pressed his fist against his bare chest, "Here…" Junkrat's voice broke off into a small, pathetic whine, "It hurts here."

He wants to claw his chest open, dig through nerves and bones and find what aches, what pulses, what has contaminated his heart and his brain, what has made his lungs and his stomach turn to tar. A tiny voice in the back of his head has been screeching  _"YOU'RE OVER REACTING"_ and Junkrat has considered bashing his head against the pavement of the shitty motel floor he'd been staying in just to shut it up.

He knows…

He knows he's over reacting.

He's not used to caring.

He's not used to hurting.

He's not used to any of this.

Lúcio's struggled to breathe. His anger wavered, taking the shape of something softer, something warmer, something heavy resting upon the pit of his belly. He hears the hurt in Junkrat's voice and he wants nothing more than to stomp on it.

He takes Junkrat's hand into his own, pressing a kiss against the joints of his long, skinny fingers. _Bitter…_ The taste of iron sits heavy against Lúcio's lips but he doesn't mind it. His words are whispers against the surface of Junkrat's bloody skin,

"I didn't mean to hurt you..."

As if they were scared the whole world was eavesdropping on their conversation, Junkrat's voice was as low as Lúcio's, "Shit, I know that…Ya ain't the type to hurt anyone without a dam good reason."

"And I have no reason to hurt you."

"I know…I know."

Blood dribbled down Junkrat's pointy chin, the droplets splashed against their intertwined fingers. Lúcio examined the red blobs of liquid before they slid down his thumb, lost to the ground beneath their feet.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have snapped like that." Lúcio said as he gently pressed his fingertips against the bruising bridge of Junkrat's nose, rapidly growing embarrassed by his behavior.

Junkrat clenched his teeth in pain, "Nah mate…Fuckin' deserved it for dissin' ya…Sorry."

Lúcio shook his head, "I was a jerk. I could've given you a warning…Instead I had you find out in the worst way possible."

"…A warnin' would've been nice." Junkrat mumbled as Lúcio wiped away some of the blood trickling down his lips.

"I was overwhelmed. I was…Actually considering asking you and Mako to come to Brazil with me."

Junkrat's cheeks burned, a toothy grin tugged at his lips. Though the stretch of his muscles caused the blackening nose injury to ache, Junkrat did not stop smiling.

"So why didn't ya?"

Lúcio shrugged, eyes down casted, "I didn't want to scare you off."

"Ya wouldn't have."

Despite the (now) thin lines of blood trailing down his mouth, Junkrat leaned downwards, capturing Lúcio's lips within his own. Lúcio stood on his tip-toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss, laughing into Junkrat's mouth when he lost his balance and bashed his teeth against the Junker's.

And despite the tiny aches in his ankles and in his gums, Lúcio did not stop kissing Junkrat.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"Five months…We have five months to pack all this shit up." Lúcio stated, lazily scanning the apartment as he sluggishly fell against the kitchen's table.

"Yer donatin' most of it though." Junkrat reminded him. He was currently trying his best to tape together one of the many boxes they'd be using.

"Right…But I still have to pack it up for them."

"Then quit yer bitchin' and help me with these dam boxes…" Junkrat tossed the box to the side, glaring at it when it fell flat against the floor.

"You big baby." Lúcio scooted closer and easily folded the cardboard into its corresponding cube shape. Junkrat watched him, a bit peeved at how easy the DJ made it look.

"You'll love Brazil! I can't wait to show you around."

"The great Lúcio Correia Dos Santos as me personal tour guide? I'm one lucky fellow."

"Not that lucky actually. I'm pretty bias." Lúcio pushed the box into Junkrat's arms expecting him to hold it as he went around the apartment and threw items in, "We're sticking to the sights I know by heart."

Junkrat trailed behind Lúcio, watching as he brushed off dust from old Cd's, and DvD's before he neatly placed them in the box, "And that's a bad thing?"

"No…But…" Lúcio frowned, "What if you find it boring?"

Junkrat laughed, "Nah…Ain't happening. I'm always hangin' off yer every word."

Lúcio's hand slipped, a pile of discs clatter to the ground and he quickly kneeled down to collect them, "…One of these days, you'll kill me." His voice cracks, "You're so cheesy…"

Junkrat squatted next to Lúcio, helping him gather the fallen items with a little chuckle, "Seriously, I can't wait to see the place ya grew up in."

"I'm glad."

"So tell me about it. What are we gonna see first?" Junkrat asked.

Lúcio's eyes gleamed. He excitedly began telling Junkrat of the hills next to the small apartment his mother used to rent before the fall of Rio, how the grass stood tall, greener than the moss found stuck to the trunks of willow trees. He told him of the water-well located at the heart of the town, of the children that would gather there to use the trash cans as goals during their daily games of football. He told him of the birds swarming the neon blue skies, how they never stop singing, how the people complained but during the silent winters, they all anticipated their return. He brings up the caves a few miles down the road, he mentions the gaps in the rocky walls, how he used to hide there when the world seemed too big, how he always wanted to see the giant worm rumored to live in the deepest, darkest area of the cave but how he'd been too afraid to go beyond the opening.

He told him of the red and green buckets he'd fill with insects only to dump them on the front porch of the old man who would steal their ball the moment it rolled into his yard. Of the army of children that used to trail behind the beat of his seven year old footsteps because he was the oldest, even if he was only older by three months.

The very same children who followed him into adulthood. When Rio became overwhelmed and lost in Vishkar's iron like grip, Lúcio was the first to break the silence and throw his fists in the air, but he never walked alone. His family, his friends, his people, trusted him, and walked close behind him. They never faltered in their movements, never hesitated- They took back what was theirs, and they kept it.

Lúcio promised he'd show Junkrat where the fiercest of battles took place, he'd show him the after damage that could never be fixed and the flowers growing along the cracked pavement.

He'd show him his childhood, his past, and what could be a future for the two of them.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

_Little girl ya have to understand yer not the only one feeling anxious 'bout the bullshit that's attached to growin' up._

She buries her curly head against his legs. Her tiny body shakes as she holds her arms upwards. Jamison sighs and embraces her. She quickly lays her head against his shoulder, tears staining the thin fabric of his shirt. He pats her back, rocking her side to side until her sobs subside into thin gusts of air.

Her pink dress, the one Mako had picked out, is in shreds…Mako says she's as reckless as Jamison.

Jamie hides his nose in her golden locks of hair and grins proudly.

_Little girl ya have to understand…We'll always be here to take care of ya._

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

  
"Tooooooooo maaaaaaaany boooooooooxesssssss…" Junkrat dragged the words out as he stacked empty boxes together. So far he'd built a small ring around Lúcio who was hunched over his laptop trying to find the cheapest airline. He was building upwards now, walls so tall they'd collide with the ceiling.

Roadhog watched the two of them, the tiniest of smiles tugged at his lips, hidden behind the brim of his teacup.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

  
"How many people have ya fucked?"

"W-WHAT?" Lúcio stumbled over his feet, dropping the books he carried in his hands. He almost bit off his own tongue in an attempt to swallow down his shock, "I…Uh…W-what!?" However, he was unable to shake off the embarrassment creeping over his neck and face.

"I ain't allowed to ask?" Junkrat questioned as he squatted down to gather the books Lúcio had dropped. His fingers brushed over the hardcovers, quivering only when he peeked up, smirk wide and sharp along his mouth, "Or are ya gonna punch me again?"

"Shut up, oh god, just shut up…" Lucio covered his burning face with his sweaty palm, "Why would you ask me that?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Curiosity killed the rat…" He gathered the books in his arms, placed them neatly on the coffee table and stood tall and proud before Lúcio, "Come on Santos…I'll tell ya mine if ya tell me yers."

"Who said I was interested in knowing who you've slept with?"

"Aren't ya?" Junkrat teased, toothy grin doubling in size as he loomed over Lúcio's small frame.

"No…" Lúcio scratched at his goatee, averting his eyes from Junkrat's intense gaze, "Well…Maybe a little."

"Then tell me who ya've fucked mate."

Lúcio stepped back, only to hit the leg of the sofa and melt a little under Junkrat's amused stare. With a scowl he messed with the beads at the ends of his hair, "It's not that I'm embarrassed…I just…" He sighed and met Junkrat head on, shoulders squared and confident, "I hadn't had sex in almost five years, up until the night I got drunk and well," Lúcio's piousness sizzled into awkwardness, "You know the rest."

"I remember…"But it was something he'd rather forget. Junkrat pressed his thumb against Lúcio's bottom lip, eyes glimmering with pride when it trembled under his touch. Lúcio was his, and he'd make sure the entire world was well aware of it.

_Mine, mine, mine._

"Stooooop…" Lúcio whined but did nothing to stop Junkrat when he leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. The kisses trailed down his chin, to the side of his neck. Lúcio's voice became strained, but nevertheless, he pushed past the knot in his throat, "I told you what you wanted to know…So tell me, how many people have you been with?"

Junkrat bit down on the skin, sucked on it until Lúcio's toes curled and he threw his head back. His breathing became ragged, "Jamie…You're not playing fair…"

"When have I ever played fair Santos?"

Lúcio pressed his palm against Junkrat's chest, and much to his displeasure, pushed him away.

Junkrat groaned, "I was havin' fun…"

"Jamie…Tell me."

"Fine, fine…" He rolled his head to the side in thought, "To be honest, I never kept count."

Lúcio twisted his mouth into a neat pout, "How many?"

"Too many."

"Hypocrite…" Lúcio crossed his arms, pressing the tip of his foot against Junkrat's thin ankle as a small warning- _Step any closer and I will knee your balls in._

Junkrat eyed Lúcio's foot and then snickered, "Hypocrite? What brought that on?"

"You were all pissy because I fucked around with one, **ONE** , random girl but here you are unable to remember all the people you've been with!"

"That's different…" The Junker sighed, "I freaked out. I realized how much I liked ya…and it didn't sit all too well, made me feel like pukin'."

"Oh, how romantic of you Jamie." Lúcio snorted and retreated, allowing Junkrat to close the distance.

Junkrat placed a kiss on Lúcio's cheek, "Oi, 'yer mine and I ain't sharin' with anyone."

Sharply, Lúcio inhaled as Junkrat once again sunk his teeth into the softness of his neck.

_Bump, bump, bump…_

_-_

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

With his forehead pressed against the cool glass, Lúcio sits crossed-legged on the floor of the empty living room of his apartment. Roadhog and Junkrat had helped him with the packing, and while most of his belongings had been donated, Lúcio still had to go through his bedroom and bathroom.

For awhile now, Lúcio had actively avoided checking his twitter (along with other social networks) in fear of what he might find. He knew his fans were devastated, he knew they were angry, and though he wanted nothing more than to offer comfort he also knew it wasn't the appropriate time to do so. He would address the issue once he found some sort of balance in his currently crumbling life.

He'd gone ghost, and he was going to make dam sure he enjoyed every second of it. Truth be told he was glad to be out of the public's watchful eye, and like Junkrat had said many, many times before: Lúcio deserved a break.

It isn't until the sun disappears beneath the earth that Junkrat finally walks into the living room.

He sits besides Lúcio, "Tried to give ya space but…Roadie will be here soon, said somethin' bout cookin' up a storm."

"Sorry…" Lúcio rubbed at his eyes, "Have a lot on my mind."

"Wanna talk about it?"

The question hung in the air for two or three minutes before Lúcio nodded, "My fans…I hope they're alright."

"They'll be fine. It ain't like yer quitting forever. Ya just need time to set up. Me and Roadie will help ya when we get to Brazil. It will be done and over with before ya can even blink 'em pretty brown eyes of yers."

Lúcio faintly smiled, the tired lines under his eyes wrinkling when he scrunched up his nose, "There's also…My siblings."

"What 'bout 'em?"

"Mmmm…" Lúcio hunched forward, wishing the glass would swallow him whole or split open and pierce through his skull, "They hate me."

Dumbfounded, Junkrat gawked.

_How could anyone hate Lúcio?_

He scowled, becoming defensive without knowing what exactly he was protecting Lúcio from, "What’s their problem?"

"The reason why I went under a record label was due to my mother's health. She was constantly worried, so much that she got sick from it all. Back in Brazil, I was-" Lúcio paused, chuckled darkly as the words pushed past his teeth, " _-Still am_ , a wanted criminal. Though Vishkar holds no power over Rio now, they're still looking for me. However, once I became an international sensation, I was off limits, at least, my agents made it so."

"But now…They're allowed to hunt ya down again…" Junkrat's upper lip curled, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he placed a hand over Lúcio's shoulder, "We won't let 'em, Roadie and I, we w-"

"Jamie, look," Lúcio lowered his palm over Junkrat's knuckles, "I don’t need protection. It was never about that. I can handle myself just fine. The only reason I left Brazil was to give my mother a break. She felt better knowing I was being watched by a powerful enterprise." A shaky breath slithered down his lips, "The shit a boy does for his mother…"

Junkrat didn't say anything.

"My oldest brother thinks I'm being stupid. He says I just painted a giant, red target on my forehead. He's not wrong, but I'm tired of hiding. I love my mother, I do…But this…" Lucio glanced down at the floor, at the dents in the carpet left behind by the expansive equipment his company had provided; a few days prior, he'd sold it and split the money between two charities, "This….This was never me. It's not who I am."

"I'm supposed to be out there, with my people, making a difference in the world, not locked away in a room." Lúcio glared at his reflection. Junkrat could almost see the self loathing drip from the corners of his corneas, "For a moment I lost track of who I was, but now, I'm taking my life back."

He carried on, "I can only hope my mother will forgive me."

He loved her, he truly did love his mother but he couldn't keep smothering his unhappiness under the cushion of his pillow as he laid awake and wished he were dead.

Junkrat clicked his tongue, "Forgive ya for what? For missin' her? For missin' home?"

Lúcio side-eyed Junkrat, caught off guard by the aggression behind his words, "She did seem happy when I told her I was coming home. My sister said it had been awhile since she'd last seen mama smile a genuine smile."

"Then stop sellin' yerself short ya damn idiot…" Junkrat huffed, "If yer unhappy here, don't look back. What's done is done and you don't gain shit with lingerin' on it."

"I try, I do. But Jamie," Lúcio's brown eyes fell close as he once again pressed his face against the window, "How do you erase the screams of the people you've killed?"

_Who are we to play God?_

There had been nothing but burning determination in the back of his head and in the depths of his muscles when he led his people towards a brighter future. He had one objective, he'd reached it, taken it between his fingers and squeezed, pushed until Vishkar's strong hold became weak under the hundreds of thundering sole's of raw, aching feet.

And when he was perched up on the highest hill, he felt invincible.

Until he caught sight of the rivers of blood trailing past his toes.

Innocent blood mixed with the remains of those who were brainwashed to believe Vishkar was only trying to help. Vishkar soldiers who didn't know any better but who thought they did…Vishkar soldiers who wouldn't be coming home to their families and friends...Vishkar soldiers with hopes and dreams who now laid dead in piles of decaying bodies...

Did he regret it? Did he regret plunging his knife in and out of their flesh? Out of eye sockets and tender stomachs? Did he regret stealing their equipment and turning their own weapons and technology against them?

No.

No he didn't.

He only wished more of his people had lived to see the day Rio stood tall and proud.

Did that make him a bad person? Was he abnormal? Inhumane? How many times had he asked himself that very same question on nights where his guilt was bulky and heavy against the base of his lungs?

He wakes up drenched in sweat, his insides threatening to split his heaving chest in half. Those pitiful screams, the ones who begged for mercy, the ones Lúcio spared, and the ones he hadn't. In a collective black mass of limbs and faces, they gather above the crown of his head and weight it down, push against the base of his skull until he's sure his neck will snap like a twig.

_This horrible, horrible guilt…_

"I could've been a better Leader. I could've saved more lives."

Junkrat dropped his hand to Lúcio's back, rubbing circles against his spine, "No…Ya did yer dam best. Ya pushed people forward, ya were the change the world needed." His free hand cupped Lúcio's chin. Lúcio allowed Junkrat to guide him into his arms, "And the good people of this world, shit, even the vermin, are in need of ya."

Lúcio hid his face against Junkrat's neck, breathing in the scent of kiwis and peaches, "As ridiculous as it sounds, for a long while, I've felt…Dead."

Junkrat's voice was a rumble in Lúcio's ear, like the sound the sea makes except deeper, a body of water he could conquer without the fear of being swallowed whole. There's no endless bottom, no threat of sinking like a rock. Light as a feather, he floats.

Lúcio liked that…He liked everything about Jamison Fawkes.

" Look at it this way: Now that ya've experienced death, ya can start livin' again."

Yeah…

Lúcio loved everything about Jamison Fawkes.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"What do you want to see when we get to Brazil?" Lúcio asked Mako one morning.

The larger man withdrew his attention from the sizzling pan of eggs and ham and turned to face Lúcio.

"Everything."

"Everything?" Lúcio tipped his head to the side, "That's a lot."

Mako smiled and Lucio's eyes went wide upon the sight of pearly white teeth peeking out from under scarred lips, "I want to see everything you're fond of. If I remember correctly, there's a lot of it, right?"

Lucio slowly nodded, unable to hide the way his cheeks flared a bright red, "Yeah…" He dipped his head and bashfully grinned at his shoes, "Rio is huge…I'm glad you'll be there, with Jamie and I."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The scent of sex blankets the air.

Lúcio is pinned below Jamison's scrawny frame. His whispering is lost within the shell of Jamie's ear, breath wet and raw against freckled skin.

"Jamie…I have never been with a man…" Lúcio's fingers are lost within ribbons of blonde hair as Jamie trails kisses down his chest, past his bellybutton, until his hands come to a stop between Lúcio's thighs. Lúcio hissed, pushing Jamie's head lower. He ignores the cocky laugh he received- a mockery of his desperate actions, his desperate needs.

"I'll guide ya through it." Jamison paused, eyes bright when they find Lúcio's. "Ya trust me, right?"

Lúcio nodded.

"Yes…I do."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Lúcio had offered to help Roadhog and Junkrat pack their things after they were done packing his apartment but the two former bodyguards had turned down his help.

"There's no need. We didn't bring anything we couldn’t carry on our backs" Roadhog explained after Lúcio had insisted he wanted to help.

Things hadn't changed. Though Lúcio was no longer in any position to afford two expensive bodyguards, Junkrat and Roadhog had refused to leave their previous cycle behind. Roadhog still looked after Lúcio at night, while Junkrat took the morning shift, and at times, the two would stick around to keep the other company. Lúcio didn't mind as long as they understood one thing:

"You guys can't put your lives on the line for me, got it?"

Junkrat tipped his chair back, teeth snapping together in irritation, "Yeah, yeah we get it…Don't ya worry 'bout it Santos. We're doing this 'cos we want to, it got nothin' to do with ya."

Roadhog added in a short but effective, "Old habits die hard."

Unconvinced, Lúcio glanced between Junkrat and Roadhog before sighing a heavy breath of exhaustion, "Okay…We have one more month to go. So come on," He kicked one of the empty boxes into the air and swiftly caught it in his arms with a wide grin, "Let's get packing!"

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Skinning the surface, whrilwinds, waterpools at the center of his finger pads. Lucio dips his fingers into the pink water specked in glitter and mountains of translucent bubbles.

"Have you thought of looking for her?" To a stranger, the question might ring as vague, but to Jamie, Lúcio had said too much.

The cold marble underneath his chin grows warmer as Jamie looms closer. Lúcio feels the sharp point of his chin dig into his shoulder blade, and Jamie's hot breath vibrating, yes, _vibrating_ , off the side of his neck.

As Jamie moves, the water in the tub shifts, threatening to spill onto the floor.

Lúcio had warned Jamie,

_Make sure the tub doesn't overfill._

But of course, Jamie hadn't listened.

"No." Jamie replies, wet eyelashes sticking to his cheeks, "'Cos I know exactly where she is."

"You do?" Lúcio's eyebrows shot upwards. All he wants is to turn and face Jamie, but in the small tub, their legs are cramped and limited to space. He settles down once Jamie runs his soapy palm down his bare back.

"I found her months ago. Some ol' fellow had caught sight of her. Good guy that one…He told me all the details and I figured out where she is currently livin'."  
  
_Oh_ , now Lúcio really, _really,_ wants to whip around and embrace Jamie, kiss his cheeks and run his fingers through his damp locks of blonde. Jamie must have had the same thought in mind because he leans closer, close enough to run and scoop the water droplets on Lúcio's shoulder within the width of his tongue.

Lúcio shudders, forcing himself to speak, "Did you talk to her?"

"Nah…She's doing well…I didn't want to ruin that." Jamie says after he's done planting kisses on the back of Lúcio's neck. Before Lúcio had stepped into the bath he'd made sure to pin his hair into a nicely packed bun to the top of his head, leaving his neck completely exposed to the sharpness of Jamie's teeth.

"Who says you'd ruin it?" Lúcio nudges Jamie's cheek with his nose, pressing his back against the Junker's broad chest, until he hears him hit the back of the tub. He almost (almost) purred with satisfaction as he settled in the Junker's lap. With their bodies pressed against one another, as close to the smooth walls of the tub as they were going to get, Lúcio had a perfect view of their legs laced and consumed in the bright pink waters. Jamie's knees peeked out of the pools of rosey-pinks like mountains drenched in cheap body-bath glitter. Lúcio's much smaller legs were completely submerged within the thin veil of soaps and perfumed water.

Above him, Jamie sighs, nestles the side of his face into Lúcio's scalp, "It's been years. Dunno if she'd even want to see me, or if she even remembers Roadie and I…" Lúcio felt the shake of his head, "Ain't riskin' it, that's why I haven't told Hog about it, don't want to hurt him further."

"He has a right to know."

"Oblivion is bliss…"

Lúcio skipped his fingers down Jamie's naked thigh, "Tell him. He'd want to know. Maybe he could help you come up with a plan." Brushing his nails down the pale hairs of his legs, Lúcio had to bite back a singy-song of a laugh when Jamie's breath hitched.

"Sometimes ya got to learn when to let people go..."

Lúcio tipped his head back, eyes drawn to the droplets of water sliding down the sharp edge of Jamie's jaw. He kissed there, there…Between the beads of liquid and the corner of his lip. As he'd suspected, Jaime was upset. Though he wasn't crying (the water was only a product of the many times Lúcio had run his wet hands over Jamie's face) Lúcio could see the sadness and utter unhappiness in the depths of his yellow eyes.

It doesn't suit him.

He kisses, pecks at his lips until Jamie's mouth splits into a lazy smile.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'll be here, besides you, Jamie."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Somewhere in Ecuador, the swing at the end of the world drifts in the air, waiting for its next adventurous soul to take past the horizon.

As a kid, Lúcio dreamt of visiting the tall, looming tree.

Though it's nowhere near Brazil he tells Jamie they'll visit once they get back on their feet.

Jamie beams with excitement.

He can't wait to visit the ends of the world with Lúcio at his side.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Lúcio slung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. He'd checked it twice, made sure his toothbrush, extra clothes, along with other necessities were safely packed within. Still, he had a feeling he was forgetting something.

Junkrat tapped his fingers on the kitchen's counter, watching Lúcio with an amused smile, "I told ya…Ya can always call me if ya find ya forgot somethin'. Roadie and I will bring it over in a jiffy. No problem."

Behind Junkrat, Roadhog snorted in confirmation.

"I don't want to be a bother…" He jiggled his backpack, satisfied with the extra weight on his back.

"Yer never a bother Santos."

Lúcio opened his mouth to tease Junkrat but was caught off by the loud buzzing of his phone. He pulled it out of the pocket of his jacket, sliding his finger over the glass to unlock the screen. Quickly, he scanned the text before typing something back.

"Hana's driver is here…She's waiting downstairs."

Junkrat rose to his feet but didn't get far.

Lúcio held out his hand, "Stay put Jamison. I can walk to the car on my own." He waved his phone around, "I'll text you when I'm with Hana, got it?"

A small hiss of air slipped past Junkrat's lips as he settled back in his chair, "Aight…But ya text me as soon as yer ass hits the cushion of the car, ya hear?"

"Loud and clear!" Lúcio's voice held a cheerful ring to it as he blew a kiss in the air and bolted out the door.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"What are we gonna do when we reach Brazil…Fuck, mate, don't tell me we have to get decent jobs, 'cos I don't know anythin' besides blowin' crap up." Junkrat kicked at a can on the floor, "I ain't ready to go straight."

"Haven't you and Lúcio discussed it yet?" Roadhog questioned, keeping himself close behind Junkrat who always seemed to skip ahead without intending to. He held a bounce to his walk, almost as if his right leg weren't tarnished to hell and back.

"Nah. I don't wanna push me problems on him. He's got a lot on his plate right now."

"He'd want to help."

Junkrat spun around and tossed an arm around Roadhogs back, missing his shoulder by a few centimeters, "That's why I have ya here! So we can figure out what the fuck we're gonna do with ourselves to help Santos out." Junkrat wrinkled his nose, "We have enough cash saved up to ride through life without any burdens, but I can already hear Santos' bitchin'…"

"I've thought about opening a restaurant with my share of the money."

"Ooooooooo!" Junkrat excitedly sang, "Sounds fancy…Say…" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket (the very same jacket he made Lúcio wear when they went out together) and grinned up at Roadhog who only frowned at the way Junkrat's lips twisted into something awfully unflattering, "Can I be yer waiter?"

"Absolutely not. You'd break all my plates."

"I would not!" Junkrat stopped slouching, long enough to stand up straight and puff out his chest, "I'd be on me best behavi-"

Junkrat's argument was cut short when he caught wind of something familiar…He tipped his head back, nose high in the air as he inhaled clouds of grey.

Smoke.

The smell of burning, of a wild, uncontrollable fire.

It was dangerously close too.

Junkrat frowned. How had he not smelled it earlier? Was he getting rusty?

He pushed his self-scolding aside as he and Roadhog picked up their pace.

A few streets down their original location, Junkrat and Roadhog came to a stop. A crowd had gathered around the burning apartment complexes, but Junkrat didn't have to be close to recognize the apartments as the ones they were renting.

The flames of red licked at the buildings. His eyes narrowed as beads of sweat rolled down his spine. It was hot…Too hot to breathe. Growing aware of Junkrat's discomfort, Roadhog placed a hand on his back and pushed him away from the packs of people littering the sides of the street.

Once upon a time, Junkrat's heart would've accelerated at the sight and smell of burning wood, but now, his chest felt tight.

Though they'd packed most of his stuff up he knew Lúcio would be devastated. There were a few items they had left unpacked due to the DJ's need and attachment; among those treasured items were his bed, his favorite red armchair, a faded green laptop, stacks of notebooks and clothing. Surely, Lúcio would be more than upset to learn hundreds of unfinished songs were now lost within an unstoppable fire.

He palmed at his pockets, pulling out his phone once he managed to locate it. He almost didn't want to call, he didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. Lúcio didn't need to hear any of this…They could tell him tomorrow.

He's about to shove his phone back in his pocket when Roadhog's heavy hand falls against his shoulder.

"Call him."

With a whine, Junkrat angrily punched Lúcio's number in, always too lazy to save it, but too dedicated to ever forget the familiar row of numbers. The phone rang once before the answering machine took over.

"Shit…"

Lúcio often tossed his phone aside when he was busy, going as far as forgetting its battery percentage and letting it die.

What was Hana's number?

Lúcio had recited it once when his phone had fallen in the tub and he had to use Junkrat's to return her call…That had been six months ago…

He brings back the faint memory coiling at the back of his head- Lucio's sad eyes as he peeked at his phone laying in the pool of water from the edge of the tub, how he had sighed in defeat and mourned all his lost photos and videos. He'd asked Jamie to call Hana if only to tell her why the line had suddenly died.

Holding his breath, he runs his fingers down the screen.

A few seconds later, Hana's voice rings through the speakers, cheerful as ever. Quickly, Junkrat cradled the phone to his ear, smiling goofily at his own accomplishment.

"Oi, Buns! Need to talk to Santo- Er…Lúcio…Think ya could put him on the line for me?"

Junkrat heard Hana rustle around, "Well hello to you too! I'm doing fine! Thanks for asking!"

"Buns, we're kinda in a hurry here."

"Oh fine…" Hana sighed, "I _would_ put him on the line but he went home. His contacts were bothering him, and he forgot his glasses so he went back to get them." Hana paused, "But that was like an hour ago."

Junkrat's head went blank. Amber irises flicker from Roadhog's blurry face, to the cackling waves of fires consuming the apartments.

Lúcio is…

There's static- white, loud, static in his ears.

It's painful.

His chest hurts, his heart will burst, burst right in between- between where it sits, hidden beneath bone, nothing left but a gaping bloody hole at the center of it all.

His phone hits the sidewalk, screen shattering as Junkrat started running towards the burning building.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"I think about my death a lot." Lúcio whispered into Junkrat's neck.

Junkrat blinked, fingers curling around Lúcio's shoulders as he tugged him away. Arching an eyebrow, he stared down into Lúcio's sleepy, brown eyes, "What now? That sounds all types of fucked up…"

"It's not…You've done it too."

"Don't think I actually have Santos."

Lúcio sighed, pushed the braids dangling over his face behind his ear and again, pressed his face against Junkrat's neck, "You have…Everyone has fantasies about what dying truly is." He shifted his weight, thighs pressed firmly against Junkrat's thin sides, "If you could pick your death, how would you want to die? Ever thought about that?"

Junkrat gave a soft whistle in reply, hand heavy against the small of Lúcio's back. His fingers traced the bumps of his spine, coming to a stop right above the waist line of his sweat pants, "Can't say I have thought of it…Truth be told, when I was a kid, I thought I was immortal."

"Immortal…" Lúcio mouthed the word, slowly, Junkrat can feel Lúcio's breath against his skin as he shaped the syllables between his lips, "It's nice and innocent."

"And unrealistic. Knowing me shit luck, I'll die a slow and painful death." Junkrat snorted, "Burnt to a pile of ashes."

"No…" Lúcio shook his head and rubbed the tip of his nose against Junkrat's sharp jawline, "Mako would never allow it. I won't allow it."

"Yer playin' God now?"

"If I have to…" Lúcio's eyes fluttered close as he rested his head against Junkrat's bare shoulder.

Junkrat snickered, pressing his face against the thick braids lining Lúcio's scalp, "Then…How do ya wanna die?"

"As childish as it sounds… I want to die in my sleep."

"Mmm…" Junkrat nudged his cheek further against the side of Lúcio's head until the DJ peeked up at him, "I don't like it…"

"What's not to like? It's painless and peaceful." Lúcio wrinkled his nose, resisting the urge to lower his head back down, he knew Junkrat would only continue nudging him if he did.

"It's too fucked up and traumatic for whoever finds yer lifeless body."

"And dying in a fire isn't traumatic?"

"There's no body. No proof of existence."

Lúcio doesn't reply. He traced the bump of Junkrat's broken nose, down its sharp point, until his thumb is pressed against the bow of his lips, "I'd remember you." He tips his head upwards, hands curling around Junkrat's keen cheekbones- One kiss, followed by another, and a third.

Junkrat held Lúcio in place, burning autumn eyes focused on his sad expression.

Lúcio breathed out, Junkrat breathed in.

"Ya don't have to remember me, Santos, we're immortal."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Jaime would wish Lúcio luck before every concert, before an important press meeting, before he'd crack his knuckles and lose himself in the endless streams of broken and unfinished song lyrics that plagued the screen of his laptop.

_good luck,_

_good luck,_

_good luck,_

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The building is devoured by a thick blanket of smoke and fire, Jamie's eyes watered as he attempts to move through the heat and clouds of black. Maneuvering the hallways proved to be a challenge; floor boards creak in agony under his hurried footsteps, they whined as he stumbles up flights of stairs, desperate to reach the sixth floor.

At some point (in between his frantic, ragged wheezing) Mako had been at Jamie's heals, the loud and heavy footsteps of his companion overshadowed the sizzling murmurs of the fire, but the deeper Jamison travels, the further away Mako seems to be. It doesn't take him long to put two and two together once he hears Mako's voice boom throughout the crumbling building, followed by the yells of several others- Jamie recognized the voices as the men dressed in red and blue, the ones outside the building, the ones who thought they held authority over Jamison's decisions, and more importantly, the ones who failed to rescue Lúcio. They must have stopped Mako at the door.

Though his veins pulse under his sweaty skin, and the muscles in his legs throb with the desire to break into a speedy sprint, Jamison forces himself to remain calm and think things through. He has to calculate his every step, his every movement, for the collapsing walls and ceiling held no remorse or mercy.

Jamie had been through this before- His eyes had burned and his chest had become a bundled mess of smoke and coughs while his heart and brain struggled to keep his body alive. Back then, Jamison had enjoyed the circumstances, he'd been giddy with excitement, thrilled to look Death in the eye and stick his middle finger in her face as he danced past strings of fireworks and bombs. Each time, he'd hobble to safety (because Mako refused to leave him behind) and waited eagerly for the next moment where he'd get to blow a building to smithereens. That was then, back then, when he didn't care for the injuries scattered across his freckled skin or the sores under his toes…But now, he had a reason to hold his head up high, he had plans; plans to see Lúcio's face light up when they stepped foot in Brazil, plans to help him achieve his goals, plans to fall asleep besides him only to wake up in the same bed, under the same roof, next to the man he loved.

His lungs are raw, exhausted by the throaty coughs coursing his feeble body, his legs shake and he needs to pause, if only for a brief moment, but not long. From his position, he can see Lúcio's apartment door.

Tripping over the twelfth step, Jamison scrapes his knee caps over the hot surface of loose floorboards. He hisses, before he shakes his head, grits his teeth and throws himself forward. Though the fire was a raging mass of smoldering heat above his head, Jamie marches on, not an ounce of hesitation or fear could be found within the soles of his dirty boots.

Lúcio…

_If he dies…_

No, not now.

_Hurry._

Jamie struggles to swallow the worry and despair lurking dangerously close to the folds of his mouth. Heavy tongue, dried up, all dried up…He's gulping down bowls of dust and dry rocks. He makes sure to avoid the handle of the door and recklessly slams his shoulder against the weakened wood, once, twice, until it splits and parts open under his brute strength.

His eyes dart from the fire licking at the underside of the kitchen's walls, to the clouds of grey roaming the empty living room and then, to Lúcio's limp body. He shoots past the moaning floors of red, and the walls, which tremble with the desire to cave inwards, comes to a stop only when he's close enough to brush Lúcio's tangled dreadlocks behind his ears.

Lúcio's eyes are bloodshot, rimmed red, his fingers dig into Jamie's arms, "My foot…"

Rubble among wooden tiles had dropped from the upper floors, leaving Lúcio's bedroom and his ankle caught within its heavy weight. Luckily, the only thing threatening to end their lives was the lack of oxygen. Wherever the flames roamed, Jamie was grateful it was nowhere near Lúcio.

It takes Jamison minutes (to what his panicked brain picked as hours) to lift the fallen pieces, fingers aching as splinters dig into the soft flesh of his palms. And then there's the looming fear of what awaits on the upper floors, of what's crawling down the stairs and dripping off the walls- The heat, its near, it bleeds from his back in globs of sweat.

"Is it broken?" Jamie asks as he kneels behind Lúcio.

Lúcio shakes his head and coughs loudly into his fist, "No I…think it's a sprain."

Though Lúcio's voice is weak, relief sweeps over Jamie.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so…"

When Jamie's arms wrap around Lúcio's waist, he fights the urge to pull him closer and place kisses all over his darkened cheeks. The ugly, ugly thoughts residing within his head roll back towards the darkest parts of his brain. No longer do they torture him- the consistent mumbles, the whispering within his ear, are gone.

He made it, he found Lúcio; Lúcio whose breathing is a little desperate, who trembles within the length of his arms, but otherwise, he's fine.

_He'll be fine._

Lúcio winces when Jamie helps him stand, "It hurts a little but…" A tired smile tugs at his lips, "I won't die."

Jamison shakes his head, dropsto his knees and motions to Lúcio, "Come on, get on me back, I'll give ya piggy-back ride."

Perhaps, under a different setting, where their weary heads aren't surrounded by the lingering body of fire, Lúcio would've argued. He wraps his legs around Jamie's torso, and his arms create a loop on his neck. Jamie hooks his own arms under Lúcio's knees and heaves himself upwards.

Slowly, they make their way down the spiraling stairs, Jamie being extra careful with where he sets his feet down now that he carries Lúcio on his back.

He wants to ask Lúcio if he's doing alright, he wants to tell him how scared he was, how scared he _still_ is. He wants to offer the trembling man some reassurance, he wants to remind him of their future dates, of the sights they'll see when they reach Brazil, of the tea Mako promised he'd make as soon as they purchase the flat near the water-well Lúcio adored as a child.

He wants to kiss him...hold his hand, hold him close.

"I'm sorry…Jamie, I'm sorry." Lúcio's words snake and twist, brittle and snap as soon as they make contact with the smoke.

_Yeah…_

_I'm sorry too._

Because he wishes he could've had more time.

Because he still has so much he wants to share with Lúcio.

Because it happens in a flash, within three heartbeats.

Three beats.

**Bump,**

Jamie sets his foot down where the floor has grown soft, he sinks _down, down, down_ and he screams, full out howls in pain when the wood digs and cuts into his leg. Lúcio is flung in the air, like a limp doll he crashes with a sickening sound, and he rests, motionless.

**Bump,**

He's caught, unable to pull his leg back up. He's caught, eyes wide with horror as he takes in Lúcio's lifeless body. Jamie sinks his nails into the wood, claws at it in an attempt to get a grip and haul himself upwards. Yes, his fingers bleed, and his nails break as he trashes about, but even as the pain flows down his outstretched hands, Jamie does not give up.

**Bump,**

His hands twitch and bleed rivers of velvet as his fingernails sink deeper into the wood, leaving long dents and holes in their wake. He feels his body shift, he feels himself move, closer to Lúcio, even if its only by an inch. Hope grows and flourishes within the pouch of his tummy. _Yes, yes, yes,_ he crawls, drags his limp legs across the burning floors and holds his arm out for him…him…Lúcio. He's so close, he can almost feel Lucio's skin against his fingers, so close...so close.

It comes undone.

The building collapses and the sound it makes, the dying sound it makes as it falls on top of Jamie's arm. He's left staring at the chunk of wood, at the bloody stump where his arm used to be, before his head smashes through the floor.

After his bones snap

After that-

There's nothing.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

don’t open your eyes

first, count to ten

  
**_One._ **

On the night the heater broke- On the night Lúcio clasped his goose bumped covered legs around Jamison's naked hips. On the night his voice was a faint whisper, a breeze of frozen air,

"I'm cold…"

Jamison hid his face in Lúcio's neck as he curled around the smaller man, draping one long arm over his waist.

They shared the same bed every day after that one night-

On that night.

  
_**Two.** _

"I had braces as a kid. They made my cheeks look bigger than they already are…" He paused mid sentence and smiled, the kind of smile Jamison burned to the back of his brain, "People at school called me chipmunk face."

"Yer cheeks aren't that big idiot." Jamison says as he placed a sloppy kiss right below Lúcio's left eye.

  
_**Three.** _

Lúcio is afraid of the dark.

Jamison noticed this after the static of a storm overtook the skies. The thunder rumbled and crackled above fat clouds of grey. The lights in the apartment flickered for a few moments before the bulbs gave out. Lúcio went completely still, eyes wide with alarm.

Jamison keeps matchboxes in the pits of his pockets.

Carefully, he lights candles, the wax _drip-drops_ onto the surface of oak coffee tables. One by one, the candles illuminate the room.

Lúcio sighs and sinks his tired head into the flat, starving valley that is Jamison's tummy.

  
_**Four.** _

When Lúcio's breath is laced with the scent of fruity alcohol and cheap sticks of strawberry gum, Jamison likes to run his tongue against the bow of his lips…Until he can taste him.

"I've talked to God, once or twice." Jamie announced as a cloud of smoke hanged between his lips.

"What did he say?" Lúcio asked as he breathed in the sea of smoke uncurling down the width of his cheeks, and into his own mouth.

"He said…" Jamie took an other drag of the joint rolled between his fingers, "He said we're all fucked."

Taking one long drink from the bottle of alcohol they were both currently sharing, Lúcio laughed once the liquid was halfway down his throat.

"You sure you weren't talking to yourself again?"

Jamie paused, and shrugged.

"Either way, we're all fucked."

  
_**Five.** _

Lúcio is a cat person. He wants to own a pack of them when he has the cash.

"A problematic contradiction…" Jaime mumbled, "They'll eat all me rats!"

Lúcio laughed.

_**Six.** _

Jamison Fawkes is a liar.

  
_**Seven.** _

The bathroom's bottom cabinet is filled with bathbombs. Jamison likes to crush them in his palm and dip his hand in the warm bath Lúcio prepared for them both. He watches the glittery purples and pinks swirl and blossom throughout the water.

When did Lúcio start calling Junkrat by his name?

Jamie when he wants a kiss, when he wants to be held, when he's hungry and wants to order take-out.

Jamison when he refuses to put his shirt back on, when he won’t put his dam cigarette out, when he won't listen to anyone but his own reckless thoughts.

Fawkes when he's gone too far, when he's over stepped his boundaries, when neither will admit defeat or say they're sorry after an argument gets out of hand.

He's not sure when it happened, but perhaps if he keeps filling the tub with obnoxious scents and soaps he will find the answer resting within the glittery filth.

  
_**Eight.** _

"In a past life, I was brutally murdered by my step-father."

"Jamie…That's fucked up."

"I have dreams of it ya know…" Jamie dug the tip of his cigarette against the rail of the balcony.

"Think of something happy before you fall asleep."

"I do. I think of ya." He chuckled and glanced at Lúcio who was trying his best to hide the small grin spreading across his face, "Haven't had a bad dream since."

  
_**Nine.** _

"I will let ya go if ya want me to." Jamie's words are slurred, intoxication heavy on his tongue.

Lúcio, sober and amused, ran his fingers through Jamie's hair, "I'm not going anywhere silly man."

 

_**Ten.** _

Lúcio's lips are set apart, three heavy breaths skip down his tongue. His fingernails are moons in the dip of Jamie's shoulder blades. Jamie rolls his hips forward and Lúcio melts. He throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut when Jamie goes deep, _deeper_ …Jamie consumes Lúcio's tiny moans and whines, he takes them between his teeth, greedily gulps his cries down and he thrives, _glows_.

Afterwards, Lúcio intertwines their sweaty thighs, comfortably settling his head on Jamie's chest. Jamie drags his fingers down Lúcio's back, writing the same verse against his sweaty skin, over and over and over again…

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love y-

Lúcio peeks up, "I love you too."

Jamie's fingers fall numb,

"Ya mean that?"

"Of course I do…That is what you were writing right?"

"Yes…" Jamie presses a kiss to Lúcio's brow,

"I love ya…I really do."

**Bump, Bump, Bump.**

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." Lúcio's head is buried between his knees. Through the pools of tears in his eyes, he can make out the watery shape of Mako's shoes.

"It's not your fault…" Mako squats down besides Lúcio and placed a hand on his back.

"But it is…I should've called him…" Lúcio sniffled, "I should've told him I was home."

Hours had gone by and there were still no updates regarding Jamie's condition. Lúcio was growing impatient and judging by the way Mako's usual calm brow now creased with worry, he wasn't doing any better.

"It was unavoidable."

Lúcio wanted to argue, he wanted to keep blaming himself, because there was no one else to blame, but he's so tired. His head hurts, his chest hurts, he wants to sleep and wake up besides Jamie. He wants to hold his hand and kiss him, but every time Lúcio asks what room he could find Jamie in he's met with sympathetic looks and rushed apologies.

They're not allowed to sleep out in the hallways which frustrates Lúcio. He doesn't want to sleep, he just wants to wait and stay in the same building Jamie currently occupies. He wonders the hallways, hands stuffed deep within the pockets of Jamie's blue hoodie. It's covered in bleached stains. Jamie hardly wore it, but on the rare occasion he'd happen to bury himself in the warm comfort of his hoodie, Lúcio would wrap his arms around his waist and press his face against his back.

It still smells like him. All those fruity soaps and creams Jamie had grown obsessed with are embedded deep within the rough fabric.

Lúcio tugged the hood upwards, obscuring his face from the questioning glances the nurses and doctors threw his way. He shouldn't be moving around, not when his ankle is swollen, but he can't sit still. With each step he takes, his foot throbs, and sometimes, he puts all his weight down on his injury just to feel the pain he rightfully deserves.

Mako had gone back to the apartment complex, or what remained of it. Though Lúcio felt sorry for the families that lost their homes and personal belongings to the fire, he didn't have the heart to help any of them out. Thankfully, the building had been evacuated without any hazards, all were safe, all…Except one. Items could easily be replaced, but a person's life…That was different.

Mako had said he'd only go back to see if he could find them a place to sleep, perhaps in a nearby motel, but Lúcio had refused to accompany him. Mako's intentions were kind but Lúcio was no fool. He knew Mako didn't want to see Jamie strapped down to a bed, hooked up to machines and other devices. That's not who Jamie was, and that's not the way Mako wanted to remember him. Jamie was his strong, passionate, and indestructible companion, his downfall was simply unfathomable- so impossible that Mako had erased it from his head.

Lúcio suspected Mako was currently in denial and he didn't blame him.

He almost wished he could join him.

But guilt sits heavy on his shoulders.

Even heavier in his heart.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The moment Lúcio is made aware of Jamie's whereabouts he settles down in the ugly brown chair placed within one of the corners of the tiny room.

The curtains are drawn, a thick blanket surrounding Jamie's bed.

Lúcio is too afraid to brush them aside.

So he doesn't.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-  
"You really should get some sleep. I'll stay here and call you if he happens to w-"

"No." Lúcio interrupted, "I'm staying right here."

Hana squatted down besides Lúcio, seeing as he currently occupied the only chair in the small, white room, "Have you eaten?"

Lúcio didn't reply.

Hana tried again, "Lúcio, have you eaten anything today?"

"Does it matter?" Lúcio snapped, voice nothing but a long hiss of hot air between clenched teeth.

Hana's brows knitted together in anger, "Yes! It matters! Jamie would want you to eat! He'd want you to sleep! He'd want you to take care of yourself!"

"He isn't here to say what he wants!" Lúcio retorted, head falling forward as he directed raw emotions at the gaps intertwined in the hospital's tiles.

"You're being unreasonable!"

"I know! I know I am! But nothing that I do will help him wake up! It doesn't matter what I do, it doesn't matter if I'm here or not, Jamie won't wake up and it's my fault Hana!" Lúcio choked on a sob, tears rolling down his cheeks, hanging off the sharp line of his jaw before they fall to the ground. He rubbed at his face, shoulders shaking as sob after sob pushed past his throat.

"Oh Lúcio…" Hana pressed her face to Lúcio's leg, running her hand up and down his arm, "He'll wake up. He will."

"And…" Lúcio tried his best to speak, but the cries and aches in his chest made it almost impossible, "If he doesn't? What am I supposed to do then?" His vocabulary was sloppy, but Hana had no trouble understanding him.

She moved closer if only to cup her hands around Lúcio's wet cheeks, she pressed her thumbs down, "Listen to me. Jamie will be fine. We both know it."

Lúcio leaned into her touch, pressing his own hands against hers. Her words brought a wave of fragile comfort over his tired body, but if he were to lean too much on it, it would shatter. He's careful.

He focused on Hana's fingers, how cool they feel against his skin and tried to ignore the beeping monitor keeping track of Jamie's heart.

He shakes so violently his teeth clatter together.

Hana holds him tighter.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

When Lúcio struggled to find sleep he'd place his head against Jamie's chest and listen,

listen

_bump, bump, bump_

Now he only hears the cries of other patients through the hospital's thin walls.

The curtains remain in place.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The in-between, where reality and unconsciousness collide, that's where Jamie coexists. At times he feels the weight of his fingers- that is, the fingers on his right hand because there's nothing but a mound of air where his left arm should be. He might be nothing but eye sockets, a neck without a spine, broken, unconnected limbs floating in a swirl of blood because sometimes he can't feel his skin, and sometimes he can only feel his toenails. In the beginning, the prickling sensation of needles digging into his flesh scared him, no matter how much he wanted, he couldn’t move away from it. Eventually he stops trying.

Occasionally he feels sharp pain shoot up his made believe body but it goes as quick as it comes. It's when he's numb that he's able to focus on his surroundings. He hears the beep of a monitor, the hushed murmur of voices, distant footsteps, followed by the squeaking of doors. When it all goes completely still he can hear Lúcio crying. Head underwater, Lúcio sounds like he's drowning. He gasps, the sobs sound distant, strangled, as if they're too big for the walls of his throat. He chokes.

Jamie claws at the darkness, desperate to break free and find Lúcio amidst the fog pressed to the inside of his eyelids. He wants to scream, maybe Lúcio will hear him, maybe Lúcio will stop crying if he hears Jamie calling out to him, but his tongue is a heavy stone against his teeth.

 _Press down-_ On what? Jamie doesn't know, but if he keeps sinking down, he might find a way out. The further he sinks, the louder Lúcio's sobs resonate. Sharp like glass shards, Jaime can feel Lúcio's pain on the pads of his fingers. It's an ache in his chest, a throbbing raw kind of hurt nestles between his heart and throat.

_Squeeze out his woes…Squish them under your thumb. Eat them up- His problems; dissolve them in the acid of your stomach._

_Find him._

_Help him._

No matter how far he falls Jamie can't find Lúcio.

In the blind emptiness, Jamie stands with his feet buried in blocks of cement, mouth wide open, like a fish, he gasps for air, but all that flows out are Lúcio's pitiful cries.

Now Jamie can't close his mouth, it all streams out, rivers of neon green and yellow.

God, it hurts, it hurts so fucking much, and there's absolutely nothing he can do to stop Lúcio from crying.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

He carries the scent of burnt flesh within the walls of his nose.

On Jamie's right arm, Lúcio can see the first degree burns disappear underneath fresh bandages. Jamie's nurse is quite gentle, something Lúcio appreciates. She's careful as she wraps the white fabric around the injured limb. It's when she walks over to Jamie's left side that Lúcio looks away. He examines the tip of his shoe. With his head bowed, he becomes aware of how the back of his shirt sticks to his sweaty frame. He runs a hand down his patchy beard- It's been a whole week since his last shower and almost two weeks since his most recent shave. Mako had been right when he'd said Lúcio needed to go home, take a bath and get some rest.

Wash the sorrow off his skin, scrub at the soles of his feet until it breaks into pieces and it floods out, all of his worries, the sickening sadness clinging to his insides, putrefying his intestines and his senses- Because he feels like he's rotting inside out, because he swears his organs are collapsing one against the other, and if he could wash it out, watch it clump in piles against the mouth of the tub, and down the drain…

_No._

Somehow, shouldering the pain and guilt seemed appropriate.

Not right now, he can't leave Jamie's side.

Not now.

He's brought out of his brooding when the Nurse's soft voice reaches his ears. She's ran out of materials and will be stepping out of the room but will return shortly. Politely, she excuses herself.

Lúcio's eyes travel upwards.

Jamie's face is peaceful, as if he's only laid down to take a nap like he usually did back home. If it weren't for the burns tracing the outline of his shoulders,and cheeks, if it weren't for the cold, dead air hanging where his left arm should be, Lúcio would think Jamie was just napping.

But he's not.

He digs the ends of his palms into his eyes and leans forward, cheeks growing wet as tears trickled down his face.

"Please…I'm begging you, Jamie, please, wake up."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The first thing Jamie noticed when he cracked his eyes open were the daunting white walls surrounding the tiny bed he currently rested upon. He tried to brush the crusties from the corners of his eyes only to find that he could not move his left hand.

He glanced down.

It's not there.

All he sees is plain white sheets. His attention is brought to the bandaged nub, ending a little below his bicep. Perhaps he should be alarmed, maybe this is where he starts screaming and grows horrified at his butchered limbs and mutilated body, but the understanding that settles in the pit of his stomach is foreign but not unwanted.

Attempting to move his right arm proved to be a bit more successful. It's still there, attached to its socket and tendons, though its sore within its clothed prison. It is, however, bearable.

Bandaged fingers drum across his exposed collarbones, coming to a stop above his left shoulder. He pressed down on the end of the nub, nausea coursing his veins as the pain flourished through his body. Gritting his teeth together, his head hits the fluffy pillow and his eyes fall close.

It doesn't take him long to put two and two together, after all, this isn't his first rodeo. He's badly injured, burned, and regrettably, not to a crisp. Because if he were to die, he'd want to die consumed by fires. _Burned to ashes-_ He's said this before, hasn't he?

_Lúcio._

His eyes snapped open, suddenly recalling the flames which devoured the apartment, Lúcio's lifeless body…and the…

Panic swelled in his chest, gooey and glowing red.

Jamie is about ready to pull the iv needles taped to his good arm when he noticed Lúcio in a chair in the far left corner of the room. He's curled in on himself, legs tucked and pressed against his belly as his head falls against the smooth surface of his knees. His eyes are closed, but the dark bags under his eyelashes don't go unnoticed. Strands of braids fall over his shoulders, most of them are caught in a messy bun. By their frazzled state, Jamie knows Lúcio has been tugging at his hair, much as he does when he's nervous or scared.

The pace of his startled heart settles into a slow, dull drum.

He's half tempted to wake Lúcio up, not only because he wants to make sure he's okay, but also because Lúcio looks oddly uncomfortable in the ugly brown chair. Maybe he can squeeze himself besides Jamie, they can share the bed.

Or maybe not…By the way the inside of his mouth, thighs and armpits feel, Jamie is certain he's in need of a shower.

It's only when calm swept over his sore limbs (or what remained of them) that Jamie noticed the aches in his bones, and the stinging sensation rippling down his right arm and left leg. Yes, he'd burnt his fingers before, even his palms, during a messily executed job. He'd hold explosives for far too long, the sparkling flames were unforgiving to the soft, pink flush of his skin. He was used to the twinge and aches that came with the burns, sores and blemishes, but they've never been _this_ severe. Absolutely never _this_ intense...It's more than he can bare.

The need to rip the bandages from his arm is an itch on his fingers; an itch he'll never be able to satisfy on his own seeing as he lacks all five of his left fingers. He growled, attempting to prop himself up on his elbow in order to reach a sitting position, but the pressure he wills onto his arm sends pangs of pain down his spine. He spiraled downwards, hissing when the needles lodged in his skin twist under his violent movements.

He hadn't been aware of the commotion he'd stirred until he hears Lúcio's groggy voice.

  
"Jamie?" Lúcio slowly blinked, movements languid as he stretched out his arms and legs.

"Mornin' sunshine." The stabs of discomfort pricking his sides is quickly forgotten once Jamie's attention is locked on the tired looking Lúcio.

Lúcio sat crossed-legged, brown eyes vacant as he examined Jamie's wide smile. It's like watching a bathtub fill to the brim and spill down the edges hitting the sparkling floor tiles with a sort of comforting _drip, drip, drip..._ Or like opening the blinds during a sunny morning, allowing the light to touch upon the emptiness of a darkened bedroom- Lúcio's blank expression is replaced with disbelief, shifts towards acceptance, and seconds later, excitement. He scrambled out of his seat, tripping over his feet but catching himself before he crashed to the floor. His fingers curled around the white sheets, hauling himself upwards, right to Jamie's side.

"Mako is going to…Hana! Oh, I need to get a doctor in here- I need to, call Mako! I-" Lúcio stuttered "I need to call the nurse, and ah…How are you feeling? Is your sight alright? Do you see blurry? Mako! I need to call Mako right away. He was so worried. I…" He choked on his own spit due to how fast he was talking.

"Slow down mate…Breathe."

When Lúcio swallowed, he cleared his throat and sank to his knees. His fingers shook, too scared to touch Jamie, too afraid to hurt him again. Jamie threads his own through Lúcio's wild heaps of dreadlocks, ignoring the way his fingers burned each time they brushed against Lúcio's scalp.

"I should be the one askin' ya if yer okay…"

Lúcio's only reply is a shudder, it runs down his shoulders and Jamie feels its after effects on the tips of his damaged fingertips.

"I thought…I thought you'd never wake up." Lúcio's voice is muffled as he speaks into the bed sheets.

Jamie laughs, the sound itself is a croak, like unoiled door hinges that haven't been open in ages, "It ain't _that_ easy to kill me off Santos."

Lúcio's reaction is caught between a cry and a laugh.

"I missed you…I missed you so, so much Jamie…" He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Jamie's side.

Jamie smiled, "I missed you too Lúcio."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

  
"Stop picking at them." Mako instructs, but his words fall victim to deaf ears.

Jamie presses his fingers against the burns running long and wide down his neck and left shoulder. There's more on his body, he can feel their virgin rawness throb and pulse each time he shifts. They're on the small of his back, on the inside of his thighs, on his fingers and palms, even between the gaps of his toes. He can't see them, the burns are neatly obscured by fresh, white bandages, but he knows, he _knows_ where they're placed.

Thanks to Mako he can see the open, inflamed skin stretching across one side of his neck and jawline, the jagged, misshaped burns overtake a small percentage of his left cheek, and Jamie absolutely hates it, loathes it enough to press his bandaged fingers against the disfigured flesh.

Mako sighs, considers putting the compact mirror down but each time he moves to tuck it away Jamie hisses in displeasure.

"Jamison…" Mako warns and grows irritated when Jamie continues ignoring him.

Jamie's groans and leans against the plastic headboard of the hospital bed, "Sorry mate…It's just…Different. Don't know how to feel 'bout it all."

Mako nodded, and waited. Jamie wasn't done talking.

"I've been through a bunch of shit, ya've been there for it all." His eyes lower to the stump of his left arm, to the covered dead-weight of his right leg, "I've lost half of me body…Never minded it much, never cared if I was unsightly or a nauseating mess of scars and burns."

He swallows, "But what if Lúcio minds it? What if he's disgusted by me appearance?"

Mako blinks and then chuckles, "Fawkes you're a goddam fool."

"Wh-"

"That man is completely, _absurdly_ , devoted to you."

Jamie's worry drains from the ocular orb of his autumn eyes, "Ya think so?"

Mako snorts, "He was glued to your side Jamison. He wanted nothing more than to be in your line of sight the moment you happened to wake up. Hana and I considered knocking him unconscious just to get him to sleep…He's…" He pauses, taking the time to search for the correct word, "He's in love."

Jamie grins, "Aw shucks mate…I love him a lot too ya know? "

Mako returns the gesture with a kind smile, "Yes, I know you do."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Afterwards Mako scolds Jamie.

He says the next time Jamison runs into a burning building without him he’ll make sure to kill him if (and only if) the fire doesn't finish him off first.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"Did ya cry while I was knocked out?" Jamie asked.

Lúcio, who had been busy trying to open Jamie's fruit cup, looked up from the plastic container in his hands only to blink in confusion, "Why are you asking me that?"

"Cause…I think I heard ya cry…I tried to follow it, thought it would bring me to ya, but…I'd always lose track of it."

Lúcio drops a plastic spoon into the thick syrup, and scoops up a decent amount, "Of course I cried." He holds the spoon to Jamie's lips.

Jamie leans forward and takes the treat into his mouth. At first, Jamison had been embarrassed by the idea of Lúcio feeding him all his meals, but it was either Lúcio's kind face or the unfamiliar presence of the nurse who looked after him.

"Swear on me life I'll never make ya cry again."

Lúcio frowns, "What an odd thing to say when you're in a hospital bed."

Jamie laughs, "And I'm makin' a speedy recovery aren't I? We'll be outta here in no time Santos."

"That's true…" The spoon is yet again packed with fruits, and driven back towards Jamie's waiting mouth. Lúcio smiles when Jamie gobbles up the food, the sweet, sticky fluids drip down the corners of his mouth.

"Brazil, we're comin' for ya!"

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Without his left arm, Jamie found that his movements were limited. Sure, Lúcio and Mako (and at times, Hana) would help him with the things Jamison was unable to handle, but overall, he was frustrated with himself. 

Doctors said Jamie could get prosthetics once his injuries and burns healed, but he wasn't willing to wait for any of it.

Not when he'd wake up to Lúcio's stressed face. Tired eyes scanned the screen of the pink laptop Hana had lent him.

From what Jamie understood, Lúcio was struggling to obtain a refund on the plane tickets he'd purchase a few months back. He wanted to stay longer, until Jamie was healthy enough to travel. Lúcio tried his best to keep his plans hushed, he didn't want to worry Jamie nor cause him an unnecessary displeasure.

Jamie happened to wake up from another doze of heavy pain killers to hear Lúcio's angry murmurs. He doesn't have to open his eyes to know that Lúcio is on the phone, and though most of what's being discussed is in Portuguese, Jamie caught on quickly.

Lúcio is on the phone with his brother, and if not his brother, it might be his sister.

Jamison remained motionless, but attentive. He hears the strain in Lúcio's whispers, the pure rage within his every word.

He wants to cancel their trip.

Put it on hold.

For his sake.

Jamie feels like shit.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

After weeks of discomfort, the bandages locked to his skin are removed. The damaged flesh is not completely healed, not yet, but it's getting there.

Slowly.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

 _"Grossssssss_ ….Could you please change the channel." Hana whined as she draped her bare leg over the leather arm of the brown ugly chair, "I'm so _boooooooreeeeed._ " 

Jamison rolled his eyes and grinned, "No way Buns, they're showin' re-runs of Family Feud and ya bet yer ass we're watchin' 'em all."

Hana groaned.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The nurse who comes in to check up on Jamie is a pretty little thing. Red full lips. Sparkling green cat-like eyes. Curls of brown, rich hair ripple around her heart shaped face and bounce each time she leans forward and asks Jamie if he's feeling alright with a sickening sweet smile.

Yeah, she's a beauty alright, but Jamie thinks Lúcio is a much sexier nurse.

He tells him this bit of information when Hana has gone home and Lúcio sits near the edge of the hospital bed.

Lúcio's cheeks flare up with embarrassment.

"Fucking shit Jamison…Go back to sleep."

Jamison cackled when Lúcio threw a pillow at his head.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-  
He hardly remembers the sound of her voice, the scent of her clothes, the odd little way her lopsided smile would curve under the point of her teeth.

He does remember the distant lullaby she'd sing between shaky breaths.

His mother…She'd cry a lot, hadn't she?

He wonders why.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

"I've been thinkin' bout it…"

"About what?" Lúcio glanced away from the open book in his lap.

"Brazil."

"…What about it?"

Jamie scrunched his nose up, fighting back the urge to cringe when the burns on his face throbbed, "Ya should go on ahead."

"No." Lúcio's response is firm. He turned his attention back to the crisp, white pages of his book, "We're going together."

He doesn't say it, but Jamie can hear the _'And That's Final'_ lingering in Lucio's reply.

"Santos, don't be an Ass…We both know I ain't leavin' this hospital anytime soon, and ya can't cancel our tickets without losin' a great sum of money."

"I don't care."

"But yer mother does."

Lúcio's eyes shot upwards, wide with anger and shock. Jamie had hopped to avoid the sensitive issue, but the moment he'd grown aware of Lúcio's stubbornness, he knew he wouldn't be able to change his mind unless he picked at the things Lúcio was trying to conceal and avoid addressing. 

"Ya promised her ya'd be back in Brazil by the end of the year. Shape up and keep that promise." Despite the bright, red anger shadowing Lúcio's face, Jamie continued on, "Roadie and I will catch up to ya."

"Don’t tell me what to do Jamison, I have already planned everything out and-"

"Lúcio, listen to me ya absolute buffoon." Jamie's tone is harsh, gritty and cold.

Lúcio bites down on his lip.

"I need to take care of some shit back home, Australia, that is. I have some buddies back there who could set me up with 'em sweet mechanics, 'cos let's be real, the prosthetics this dump has to offer ain't gonna suit me taste." He observed as Lúcio's tense shoulders relax, "I could built me own arm, we Junkers are known for our strength and creativeness. It would be a piece of cake."

Lúcio's frustration sizzled into a small whine, one akin to a child's exhaustion after throwing a tantrum, "But…We said we'd go together."

"Think about yer mother."

"I have!" Lúcio shrunk in his chair, rubbing at his face with the sleeves of Jamie's blue hoodie, "Believe me I have…I miss her so much, but I-"

"I'll be fine. I'll have Mako with me."

Lúcio chewed at his lip, "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have brought it up if I wasn't." Jamie smiled, all teeth and gums, and only truly meant it when he sees the worry lines under Lúcio's eyes disappear beneath a soft smile.

"We'll be fine Santos."  
-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

They shouldn't be doing this, not when Jamie's injuries are still fresh, fresh enough to stain the white sheets below their bodies. Lúcio thinks he probably shouldn't be cuddled close to Jamie's body, not when the walls are paper thin and a nurse, or worse, a doctor, could walk in at any given moment.

Jamie's breath is warm against Lúcio's forehead, Lúcio shifts closer still, ever so careful with his movements. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he were to accidentally hurt Jamie.

He's near enough to kiss him, to feel the point of his tongue brush against the walls of his mouth. He opens up wide, hungry for more.

Saliva dribbles down Lúcio's chin, breaking the kiss with an audible _pop_.

Lúcio sinks his face against the dip of Jamie's neck (on the side free of burns and welts) and drops kisses along the bruised lines of his jaw.

"I don't want to leave your side."

"It's only for a few months."

"Far too long Fawkes."

Jamie drops his fingers, one by one by one, on Lúcio's arm, "I'll come find ya, wherever ya are, I'll find ya."

Lúcio smiles, teeth sharp against Jamie's skin, "All you know is I'll be in Brazil. Brazil isn't small Jamison."

"Don’t fuckin' doubt a Junker's sense of direction Santos." He can see the curve of Lúcio's button-like nose, the bow of his lips, glistening with spit as he hauls himself upwards to loom over Jamie, "I'll look under every rock, turn this shitty world upside down till I cross paths with ya."

His eyes are a flame within a lantern, bright orange flames. Lúcio moves to kiss Jamie's cheek, dreadlocks falling forward in streams of beads, "And until we cross paths again, I'll wait for you."

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

The run to the airport is an uncomfortable experience. The few clothes he owned had been lost to the fire, and so he is forced into the nearest shopping center. Usually, he'd be thrilled to get some shopping done, but now, there's a lump in his throat. Not even Hana's cheerful attitude could cheer him up.

He'd said goodbye to Jamie on the very same night they shared their last kiss, and God, he missed him. All he could do was keep looking forward. All he could do was wait.

Once he'd filled his newly purchased backpack with two sets of clothes, among other necessities, Lúcio was escorted to the airport by Mako and Hana.

Their goodbyes are brief.

Only because Lúcio refused to linger on the events swirling past his head in blurs of blue and purple.

He will see them again.

He will see him again.

Soon.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-  
Hours turned to days.

Days turned to weeks.

Weeks turned to months.

Over the horizon, the sun kissed the moon goodnight.

Lúcio's heart is in his throat.

There's no sign of Jamie.

No calls, no letters, nothing.

Nothing but the cold water licking at Lúcio's knees, and the wet mounds of sand enclosing his ankles.

It's silly, ridiculous, to spend his nights with his body sunk deep in the sea, eyes drawn to the puffs of purple clouds stretched across the darkening Brazilian sky, wondering…Pondering, if he will ever hear from Jamie again.

There's a stack of hand-written letters upon the marble surface of his dresser. One letter for each time Lúcio ached and hurt and grieved and missed the wickedly insane rings of Jamie's laugh. Letters that would never find their way to Jamie's hands, letters that Lúcio would later hold above the flickering flame of his neon green lighter and burn to a crisp.

Much like Jamie wanted to die.  
As a pile of ashes.

There's no sign of Jamie.

When the weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years, Lúcio finds he doesn't give a fuck anymore.

-

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...

-

Jamison Fawkes is a liar. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again i want to thank you guys for the kudos and the comments, thank you so very much!! i'm still bad at the talking to people thing but i appreciate the attention this fic gets <3 i made a tumblr (lmao am i allowed to promote myself?) because i really wanted to post drabbles that dont make it into the fic. if any of you are interested in getting snipets of boombox please feel free to follow me here: http://sunsaints.tumblr.com/ perhaps i can befriend some of you there!


	4. The final and last Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank fucking god its over, catch my typos bcs i sure as hell gave up

**||** _so now the tears in your jeans are the holes in your armor you’re the thoughts that i feared, you’re the mountain i’ve conquered_ **||**

 

On Monday he missed his smile, its crooked type of curl, how his gums were red and bright under the curve of his upper lip. Jamie was missing a tooth, his lower left lateral to be exact. Lúcio often forgot about it, until Jamie smiled, wide, vibrant, almost maniacally, as if he knew something Lúcio didn’t, then he'd see it, the gaping black void smacked between a row of coffee stained teeth. Or felt it, felt the vacant space when Jamie gripped onto Lúcio's waist and sunk his molars into the soft skin of his neck.

On Monday, Lúcio writes Jamie a letter.

_I miss your smile._

On Tuesday he missed his eyes, the vibrant amber flames flickering, never stable. Pale eyelashes looked transparent when they brushed against his sharp cheekbones. When there's soot and clouds of grey unwinding down the length of his face and neck, Lúcio can see the curl of pale eyelashes. However, the fine little hairs are difficult to notice on his right eye- _Burn 'em off durin' an explosion, ugly fuckers never grew back, now me eye is all naked_ \- he says with giddy excitement.  

And the way Jamie looked at him, with that unpredictable gleam in his crazed irises. 

On Tuesday, Lúcio writes Jamie a letter.

_I miss the brush of your eyelashes- or, at least, what was left of them._

On Wednesday he missed his hands, the bony, twig-like sharpness of his fingers, how they thumped against the back of Lúcio's neck- thump, thump, thump - how they twisted into the locks of his hair, collecting strands of braids into the hungry valley of his palms, imprisoning them within the dip of starving knuckles. Jamie dug his fingernails into Lúcio's arching back, deep enough to part the skin and make it bleed. Lúcio pressed deeper, Jamie's thighs quivered, eyes rolling back until a pretty liquid white was visible. Jamie looked good like that: pinned below Lúcio's powerful arms, disheveled, blonde strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, as he ran his skinny fingers down Lúcio's spine, he gasped, deep and desperate and hoarse and-

_Harder._

He demanded.

_If yer gonna fuck me, do it right Santos._

Later that night, Jamie whined, said something about not being able to sit down without his ass hurting.

Lúcio snickered.

On Wednesday, Lúcio writes Jamie a letter.

_I miss the way your hands danced over my body._

On Thursday he missed his scent, that is, the various aromas the Junker would clad himself in. Sometimes it was a light combination of peach and strawberries. Other times, it was the familiar fragrance of smoke and gasoline. Lúcio knew Jamie had been out playing with explosives when his clothes reeked of led and gunpowder. He didn't mind, in fact, he'd bury his nose in the long depth of his freckled collarbones. Though he'd never say it out loud, Lúcio loved when Jamie's hands were filthy with dirt and blood; blood from the bar fights he'd get into, blood from the one time Jamie went out to buy a pack of cigarettes and one funny looking chump (according to Jamie) had given him lip, so Jamie made the guy's jaw go limp with pain. Jamie would go shower as soon as he stepped foot inside their apartment but not before Lúcio pinned him against the nearest wall.

Of course, Lúcio also appreciated the nice collection of fruity lotions and perfumes Jamie had gathered and kept in the bathroom's bottom cabinet.

On Thursday, Lúcio writes Jamie a letter.

_I miss the god-awful stench of obnoxiously sweet perfumes- the ones which clung to the side of your neck._

On Friday Lúcio missed his laugh, mimicking the insane cackle of a pack of wild hyenas. High pitched and…Hurtful? Like fingernails on chalkboard. It started out sharp, piercing through the softness of Lúcio's ears, but quickly mellowed out into foam, yes…Bubbles but thicker, like the noise an amused child omits through spit-swirled giggles. It was a coo in his ear, a distant sound of glee- distant only because Jamie would at times drift off, lost in the depths of his mind, and he'd laugh. At what? Lúcio didn't know. Lúcio never asked.

Jamie found humor within his own shitty jokes, the type of jokes that would make Mako grunt and Lúcio chuckle with sympathy. Yes, yes, yes…Jamie would tip his head back and out it all flows: Strings of _ha-ha-ha's_ and spurts of _Why-aren't-ya-laughin'-mate-I'm-fuckin'-killin'-it-out-here-you-dull-ass-stick-in-the-mud._

On Friday, Lúcio writes Jamie a letter.

_I miss your laugh. I miss your jokes. Even the bad ones, and the ones that made no sense to me._

On Saturday Lúcio missed the positive and negative traits that made Jamie the person he was. His impulsiveness, his selfish and greedy nature. His kindness- reserved only for those he valued; a handful of individuals and Lúcio was proud to be one of them. His lack of sympathy (if it did not involve a loved one he did not give a fuck), his lack of patience, his stubbornness, his hatred towards the suits and the government, his dedication to his own believes and morals, his thirst for knowledge, his unorganized thoughts and ideas, his arrogant confidence followed by his cocky chuckles. His ability to lie, to those around him, but more importantly, his ability to lie to himself-

Specks! Specks of Jamison's personality! Specks of broken memories…

How he disliked romantic comedies and would loudly whine anytime Mako and Lúcio would try watching them. How he'd stay awake watching re-runs of family feud and old, black-and-gray action films. How Lúcio had kicked Jamie out of the apartment for changing the radio (tuned into a rap station) to a country station. How he refused to clean out their bongs but was always the first in line when it came to stuffing his lungs with clouds of laced drugs that made his head numb. How his lips tasted after they both shared a bottle of vodka.

The pieces of an unfinished puzzle- it had been a picture of a cat surrounded by pink and purple flowers, hadn't it? They'd given up on it when Jamie (in a huff of irritation) flicked a piece across the room and despite Mako holding the furniture above his head, the puzzle piece was never to be seen again.

The unwashed coffeepot. Jamie refused to wash dishes.

The holes in the kitchen's wall caused by Lúcio's fists. Jamie and Mako had bought picture frames with cheesy inspirational quotes and placed them over the raw anger littering the walls .

On Saturday, Lúcio writes Jamie a letter.

_I miss you._

On Sunday Lúcio missed Jamison Fawkes.

He doesn't write him a letter.

He's already written him three hundred and sixty-five times.

Lúcio writes him, nonstop, for a full year, but when the second year rolls around, he finds himself too tired and exhausted to write.

When the third year falls upon the world, Lúcio pulls out a pen and a paper.

On a Sunday night, Lúcio writes Jamie a letter.

_I hope you feel as lonely as I do._

_-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Home is staring into the reflection of a broken, grime-smeared, mirror. Watching green hills stretch far and wide, upside down, mimicking the muck covered windows of the bricked (crumbling bricks, decomposing into…nothing) houses mounted upon other bricked quarters.

Lúcio blinked, rolled onto his toes.

It looked better than he had remembered it.

True, most of what he'd grown up around had either been torn down by Vishkar seven years ago, or had been remolded by the people living within the Favelas stretching across Rio.

This wasn't home.

Not exactly.

It's the repaired mirror of home.

Because the sewage problem running down the trash-littered streets of Rocinha had been fixed the moment Vishkar stepped foot into the crowded step-stones of rundown alleyways. No longer did waste and murky water flow past Rocinha's platform, and into less fortunate Favelas- Who had the people thanked?  Vishkar.

Because children were no longer scared of their own shadow. One after the other, they pranced to school, found at the top of the hill, (ah yes) at the center of the hill. They walk with a confident bounce to their step, they marched to the beat of a predictable drum, step by step by step- Who had the people thanked? Vishkar.

Because when they were no longer sinking their teeth into rotting apple cores, when their tummies weren't packed day in and day out with the same meal of beans, Vishkar set upon the moth-eaten tables baskets of fresh fruits and bread. Oh! How soft the bread had been. Lúcio can still feel it's cloud-like texture between his fingers. Who had the people thanked? Vishkar.

The new clothes were appreciated, and the shiny shoes adorning their child-like feet were adored. Backpacks filled with books, crayons, and notebooks were cherished, and the electronics Vishkar agents wrapped in giant red bows were loved.

When Vishkar starts monitoring the things the people of Rocinha consume: How much they eat, what they flip the tv channel to (and later restricting certain channels), what they listened to, who they talked to, and what they were and weren't allowed to say- At first, they gritted their teeth and swallowed down their rage.

The people listened, or at least, tolerated it.

They're grateful, not stupid. 

Lúcio still remembers the night when he first spat directly into the open mouth of a Vishkar soldier patrolling the streets.

Vishkar had opened a few shops near the outskirts of Rocinha, they had said it would open up jobs to those who needed them. Lúcio had instantly hopped on board. His hopes and expectations were high, he set his heart on a singel plan: Earn and save enough cash to bail his family out of Rocinha.

They had lied.

The people were overworked and underpaid, something Lúcio quickly grew to hate. Within two weeks, he was ready to throw in the towel. After he was forced to work overtime, Lúcio had finished off his share of the work and clocked out around one a.m. His bones ache, his feet pulsed with every step he took and his eyelids were heavy on his face. Despite his exhaustion, he carried himself tall and proud. He knew his mother would be waiting, he knew she wouldn't sleep until Lúcio and the rest of his siblings were safe within the walls of their home.

He hurried along.

Though he no longer used the shadows to hide his presence, and though he no longer walked with uncertainty of who or what could and would sneak up behind him, Lúcio did not appreciate the nasty glares he received from Vishkar guards. He kept his mouth shut, and would've continued biting at the inside of his cheek if it weren't for the guard who blocked his path. The man's icy stare made Lúcio's blood run cold, and when the guard dug the tip of his gun into his arm, Lúcio's breath hitched.

No, not because he's scared. There's something much greater, fatter, and dangerous sitting in the center of his chest, and it does not go by the name of Fear.

"State your name, and quadrant number." The guard demands.

That's right. They've been enclosed within groups of twenty. They were no longer people, they lacked names, and only answered to the shape and sound of numbers. Vishkar said it made it easier, cleaner, simpler to keep track of the thousands of people living within Favelas. It was nothing personal, so they claimed. Lúcio said it made it inhumane, cruel, evil to treat them like stock.

He doesn't answer the guard, not even when he digs the hard metal of the gun deeper into his arm. It should inflict fear (because that's what the soldier is thinking) it should make him bow his head and stutter out a reply (because that's what the soldier is expecting) but Lúcio snarled, spat and jumped forward. Fist high above his head, he swung and slammed his knuckles into the guard's face. He should've stopped there (because the soldier demanded he ceased his movements) but he didn't. He kept swinging, burying his knuckles deep against the bloody skin, and watched as the guard's nose disappeared underneath a pool of blood. And he should've wiped his hands off and stopped there (because the guard was begging him to stop, _stop at once_ , he said) but he didn't. The guard shakily wraps a hand around Lúcio's shirt, pathetically bats his fingers against cold air until he happens to catch Lúcio's necklace within his grasp. Desperately, he tugs downwards, and the thin silver lace breaks into two even pieces. And as Lúcio watched the silver thread slither away from his neck, and the tiny _Virgem Maria_ charm his mother had placed on his neck clatter to the floor, Lúcio's vision morphs into an ugly, dark red. He slams his arm down on the guard's nose, grits his teeth when he feels the bone shatter against the point of his elbow.

However, this isn't when and where Lúcio truly snapped. No, he's well aware of his actions, he's well aware of the rage and pent-up frustration circling through his veins and burning bright in his lungs- He hasn't snapped, not yet. In the background, he hears gunshots.  Lúcio quickly collects the charm (because when he was four years old, his mother had placed it around his neck and promised him the saint, oh the gracious saint, Virgin Mary, would keep him safe) and scrambled away from the whimpering male pinned to the floor.

He's not sure why he does it, but he takes off in a frantic sprint, thighs and muscles burning as he placed all his strength into his legs. He's not sure why he's running away from something, someone, who can easily track him down, because all of his personal information is set and locked into Vishkar's tracking system. He can't go home, they'll be waiting for him. He can't head towards the hills and hide within the wild frenzy of vines and trees and caves and rocks as he would when he was a boy of six, they'll be positioned near the outskirts of Rocinha. For a second he considered back tracking and turning himself in, for a second he comes to a screeching halt, hands outstretched against red bricks as he struggled to catch his breath and considered offering an apology.

The thought alone makes his insides twist with disgust.

He won't apologize.

He will never apologize.

Now, as he stared down at the new and improved streets of Rocinha, Lúcio relished in his strengths and accomplishments.

It might not be home, but Lúcio clearly remembers who he is and where he came from. He remembers the struggles he and his people faced, and he knows that among the new Rocinha, traces of his old past can still be found within the bricks. Plenty of friends, and people he considers family remain within the Favela, working towards a better and brighter future, for themselves and for the upcoming generation. True, most Favelas were difficult to maneuver, a word such as family, was unknown and forgotten, but the people Lúcio grew up with were different, and for that, he was thankful. Every so often, Lúcio would donate seventy-five percent of his money to organizations dedicated to help the children found within Favelas, and whenever it was possible, he would send special gifts to Rocinha.

When Lúcio finally wiped his hands off and made his way into the heart of Rocinha he was greeted with warm hugs, and curious glances. The children always hid behind their mother's skirts, something that struck Lúcio as nostalgic. It wasn't until Lúcio juggled a soccer ball from foot to foot that the children joined him in yells of joy and excitement.

This is what Lúcio had fought for.

Home.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

After Lúcio had caught up with old friends and after they had enthusiastically explained building new school's and shelters with the money Lúcio had donated, he had approved of their plans and departed with more than a warm goodbye, and a promise to return as soon as the opportunity presented itself. He didn't tell them he was moving back to Brazil. He didn't feel the need to, especially when each step he took was filled with uncertainty. He wasn't sure of what to do next. Career wise, he felt stuck. He wanted to have a clear mind-set and a solid plan before he started running his mouth.

Perhaps it would become easier when Jamie and Mako joined him. They promised they'd be back before summer arrived. Only four months to go. Lúcio could hang on for awhile longer.

Truth be told, his first stop should have been his mother's house, but Lúcio couldn't help but avoid the situation. He knew she would question his appearance- Ragged, tired, eyes blood-shot red- she would be concerned and the last thing Lúcio wanted to do was make his mother worry.

Oh yes, she'd been happy.

Lúcio's mother had leaped out of the comfort of her rocking chair and hobbled over heaps of baskets stuffed high with ribbons, yarns and needles, the moment her son walked through the door of her house. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in Lúcio's pink sweater, hugging him even tighter when he chuckled. He kissed her wrinkled forehead and swept away the tears rolling down her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

Oh yes, she'd been overjoyed.

She took his hands between hers, commented on how much larger and rougher they now were, "Trabalhando bastante, filho?" (Working hard, son?)

He nodded, only nodded because his throat is a tight little knot, and his lower lip quivers when his mother pressed a kiss against the dark skin of his knuckles.

With a gentle squeeze of her hand, she brought him into the kitchen, and Lúcio can't help but admire what she's done with the place. He made sure to pick out a house that was comfortable enough for his mother. He knew she wouldn't like an expensive and enormous house, and even though he was ready to put the world at her feet, she remained simple and thankful under her son's wealth. If he had it his way, he would surround her in walls of gold and emerald, in lakes and waterfalls of jade and ruby.

When he was younger, Lúcio said, "Vou te fazer a rainha de tudo um dia" (I'll make you Queen of everything one day.)

His mother only smiled and ruffled his hair.

He grew to be successful, with enough money to put his mother in the throne she rightfully deserved, but she didn't want any of it. She settled for a small house, located in the private and safe parts of Leblon, Brazil.

He'd never seen the house, only heard of it from his siblings (who would at times visit) and his mother. Seeing it for the first time took his breath away. True, it was nothing special. To the rich, it would be a common house hold, but to Lúcio, it was home. Though it was much grander and elegant than the dirty, crumbling shack they'd reside within during their years spent in Rocinha, his mother presence and touch was enough to feel welcoming.

It was three-thousand steps up from the moth eaten walls, and the broken windows, and leaking ceilings of their old home. She no longer slept with a hand wrapped around a knife, her children no longer lived in fear.

Lúcio's eyes welled up with tears.

He'd really done it…He'd become someone important and powerful and he put his mother on the map, at the center of it, where she shined and thrived like a goddess.

_A saint._

For all the hardships she endured. For the welts she carried under her feet on the days she'd traveled more than ten miles in order to obtain food for herself, but (as always) more importantly, her three children. For the nights she pressed her two sons and her daughter to her bosom when they'd cry or were scared of the harmful, reckless noises of the Favela. For never abandoning them. For always taking care of them. For being a strong role model. For being a stronger woman.

_An absolute saint._

Lúcio didn't carry his father's last name.

He carried his mother's.

Joana Correia dos Santos.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Que que houve?" (What happened here?) His mother asked as slender fingernails cladded in pink nail polish lightly brushed against the deep (still raw) injury located on Lúcio's ankle. Though her touch was a ghost hovering above bruised skin, Lúcio clenched his teeth in discomfort.

"Não foi nada, mãe." (It's not important.) He tried to overshadow her worry with a bright smile.

"Como que foi nada?!" (Of course it is!) Her hands cupped his cheeks, "Eu me preocupo contigo, sempre me preocupei, sempre vou me preocupar." (I worry about you. I always have, and I always will.)

Lúcio sighed. He loved his mother, he really did, but she'd always been extremely over protective. As soon as Lúcio had taken a seat at the table, she took it upon herself to prepare a meal. She talked over her shoulder, tossing several spices and vegetables into the boiling pot on the stove. Despite his constant reminder that he wasn't hungry, she didn't listen. And so Lúcio told her all about America, about the nice little apartment he owned, about his fans, about his career, about Hana, and several other details with no real importance. He refrained from mentioning who exactly his bodyguards had been, she seemed happy enough to learn that her son had been safe, and that was all that mattered.

He was hoping to avoid the latest accident, but once she had set a plate on the table for him, she'd taken the seat next to his and instantly noticed the bruising surrounding his ankle.

Lúcio averted his gaze as she fussed. He could lie and blame it on a less concerning event, but when his mother looked at him with her large, sad brown eyes, he knew he could never lie to her.

And so, Lúcio told his mother all about the fire, but he made sure to avoid mentioning his name: Jamison Fawkes.

For now, his existence was void.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Before Vishkar had sunk its talons into Rocinha soil, Lúcio would preform for the people of Rocinha. Any place where a crowd could gather, Lúcio would pull out the small radio he'd strap to his dirty shorts. He placed it upon broken barrels, and sets it to its highest volume setting. He was only thirteen at the time, but his movements were fluid, like moving through fountains of sparkling water, he turned on his heels and smoothly moved through the streets. The people would cheer him on, some (mostly children) would join him, and he'd spin them within his arms. Oh, how they had laughed, deep- the type of laughter which blossoms within the depths of a warm and fed tummy. Some of the elders who knew how to dance samba took him under their wing, and Lúcio drank up the information as if he were dying of thirst. His mother couldn't afford to send him to a proper samba school, but he didn't mind: His people were his teachers.

There's rumors traveling through the Favela-

_Have you seen the new street dancer? A boy of age thirteen._

_High spirited, that little one._

_Talented, oh that he is, talented._

When Lúcio is sixteen, a tall, fat and balding man approaches him, a box wrapped in brown stained newspaper sits within the depths of his hairy palms. Lúcio stands his ground, brown eyes flickering towards the front step of his home- If he wanted to, he could hide within fragile walls. Unless…He's shot down, a bullet placed right between his eyes.  With the deaths and missing posters hanging off crumbling light posts, Lúcio doesn't doubt the possibility of dying. As the man grows closer, Lúcio recognizes him as one of the drug lords his mother had spoken fondly of, only because he'd help their family out when they were low on food and money. No, not because the man had a generous heart. Fuck that. Kindness and compassion only got you so far in a poverty stricken area such as a Favela. Lúcio's mother- _Joana, Joana, Joana,_ he loved her and her name- had taken care of his only child when the poor boy was sick, pale and dying. A favor that the man had vowed to repay. Every so often he'd bring them presents; things he'd found, things he'd stolen, things he'd receive during trade offs.

Joana had no interest in joining the chain of cartels roaming the streets of Rocinha, in fact, she had a strong dislike towards those who took advantage of others ignorance and vulnerability. For that, she was praised, valued by those around her. A natural born leader- they had said. A strong woman she was, a strong woman who Lúcio loved and idolized.

Lúcio tense shoulders droop once he's sure there's no reason to be suspicious. The man smiles, proudly shows off the gaps between rotting teeth.

The explanation is a short one: _Hey kid, you like music, right? Right, right. Here, snatched this up. From where?_ A booming, loud laugh. _Don't worry about it. Thought you'd like it._

Lúcio stares at the bundle placed besides him. He doesn't dare open it until the man is invited in by Lúcio's mother. Once he's alone, he picks apart the newspaper, slowly, ever so slowly. His eyes nearly pop out of his sockets when his fingers fall upon the beetle black surface of the tape recorder. Inside, there's a cassette.

This is where it starts.

This is where it begins.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

It would be a lie to say Lúcio had planned every song he composed. He never had the time nor the energy to sit down and think of what he wanted to piece together. Lúcio would hold his recorder above the small radio; he'd record bits and pieces of songs, until the cassette was filled with unpredictable sounds and melodies.

He'd play these pieces at full volume in packed alleyways, and the people, his people would be fascinated by the sounds Lúcio had managed to capture within the plastic walls of brown cassettes. Yes, he mixed songs together, in a way, in a manner, that would make the people of Rocinha throw their hands in the air and forget the heavy problems of the world. They'd dance with him because he was the dirt stained boy whose feet were made of dust- _Have you seen him dance? Talented little boy, talented little street dancer._

It's not until he's eighteen that Lúcio gains the proper equipment to make his own music. It's not much really, he finds most of it in garbage dumps, and goes through immense headaches and pains to fix the supplies, but he's a talented young man: He's good with his hands, and while it takes him months to piece everything together, he's intelligent enough to accomplish it.

Once he's on a roll, he holds underground concerts (free of charge of course) for the people of Rocinha and he's quite pleased and surprised when people of other Favelas catch wind of his name and come together just to dance and hear him play.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

 _Please, wake up,_ Lúcio prayed through his fingers.

As a child, he wanted nothing more than to see the light at the end of the tunnel- When it came to the fear inflicted onto those as weak as him by the cartels his mother had no power over.

 _Please, wake up,_ Lúcio prayed through the gaps between his palms.

As a teenager, he wanted nothing more than to see the crimes committed by others come to an end.

 _Please, wake up,_ Lúcio screamed through a mouth full of blood.

As a man, he led his people into a revolution against Vishkar.

Rio had awaken.

Vishkar had made a mistake- To expect the people of Rocinha to accept defeat, when they'd all survived and been through worse, was extremely ignorant.

Lúcio's music had brought them together, made them stronger, he'd given them a voice, and a sound they could easily follow. Due to his (and his mother's) connections to the drug lords working underground, Lúcio had gathered enough supporters to lead an army. While he had wanted to keep away from cartels, Lúcio wasn't willing to lose his home to Vishkar, and neither were the people of Rocinha.

Perhaps it was the only time period in which they truly moved as one- and as one, they were unbreakable.

The moment Vishkar had banned Lúcio's weekly concerts, they had crossed a line. The moment they had threatened to get rid of _Rio Carnaval_ , they had signed their deaths.

He'd gotten his hands dirty, and his clothes reeked of blood and sweat, and he'd never quite forget the screams of the enemy soldiers as they fell to their knees and pleaded for their lives.

It had to be done.

As much as he loved his mother, Lúcio understood one thing:  Prayers don't mean shit. God would not ascend from the heavens to rid them of poverty and cure them of disease. He had to step forward- Humanity had to fend for themselves. He had to walk and live for himself.

If he had to, he'd be the saint his mother had prayed for.

And that's exactly what he did.

And that's exactly who he became.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Jamie used to sleep with an arm draped around Lúcio's waist, pinning the smaller man close to his naked chest. Lúcio, more than often, struggled to leave Jamie's embrace without waking him up. He'd hold his breath and try his best to slowly push his way out but Jamie's grip grew tighter. Lúcio would either wait for his bodyguard to wake up or cause enough of a commotion that Jamie would groan and crack a beady eye open.

The embarrassed smile curling at the ends of Jamie's lips made Lúcio beam with amusement.

"Sorry mate…"

Jamie would raise his arm and Lúcio would kiss the tip of his chin before he'd lazily move away from the bed and towards the bathroom.

"You know I would stay in bed if I didn't have work." Lúcio called to Jamie who only grunted and rolled deeper into the heaps of blankets.

Jamie wouldn’t fall back asleep, and Lúcio knew this.

Jamie would follow after Lúcio, place his arms around his tummy and his chin on Lúcio's head. Through heavy eyelids, he'd watch as Lúcio fixed the ends of his dreadlocks, and then he'd follow him out into the bedroom.

Lúcio would argue, "Go back to sleep you silly man."

Jamie would shake his head, "I can't, not unless yer there with me."

It was quite shocking when Lúcio put two and two together: Jamie needed lots of attention, and it was probably yet another reason why he tried his best to act cold and aloof when they had first met.

Later that same day, Lúcio would take his laptop on one knee, and Jamie's heavy head would fall against the other.

And as he tapped away on his keyboard, Lúcio would glance away from his screen and smile when he saw Jamie fast asleep. He'd curl his fingers within the thin blonde curls of hair and relish in the moment.

Now, as Lúcio slept in an empty bed, void of Jamie's presence, he really wished he would've pushed him off his knee and onto the floor.

Fucking asshole.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Fresh days- On Junkrat's and Roadhog's eighteenth day on the job, they experienced Lúcio's resentment.

Junkrat had bitched under his breath the entire morning. He didn't want to escort Lúcio to an important press meeting. Lúcio professionally ignored Junkrat's foul language, much too focused on reading and re-reading the notes he'd taken the previous night.

It was simple: Get into the building, greet his agents, deliver his speech, wait until the conference was over, and then he could head home.

Yes, simple enough.

He knew the meeting was important only because the event had been hyped and talked about by his crew and agents. Apparently it would be an attempt to bring two organizations together, something his record company would largely benefit from. Lúcio had to make a good impression, set his music forward as a bonding pact. Truth be told, the DJ didn't really care, all he wanted was to get it over and done with. The sooner the better because he wasn't sure how much longer he could put up with Junkrat's constant cursing. He hardly knew the other man, but that didn't mean he couldn't order him to shut up.

Lúcio took a seat near the front of the stage, not wanting to walk a long distance once it was his turn to speak. His bodyguards skimmed the right side of the room, their eyes locked onto Lúcio. Strangely enough, Lúcio felt safe.

Much too focused on himself, Lúcio hardly noticed when a woman dressed in an elegant uniform took the stage. His attention only flickered towards her perfect and fluid movements when she tapped her finger on the microphone. Before she even spoke, Lúcio knew exactly who the woman was.

He gritted his teeth- How did he not notice a Vishkar agent? Had he grown too comfortable around Junkrat and Roadhog that he'd forgotten to check his surroundings like he usually did?

Perhaps he should've stayed seated, perhaps he should've held his tongue, but the moment the woman's presence was honored with a round of applause, Lúcio got to his feet and made his way towards the exit. He could feel the eyes of several people on him, and he was well aware of Junkrat and Roadhog shadowing his every step. He almost hoped he could get away with the rude display, but the second his hand wrapped around the handle of the door, the woman's voice turned sour and bitter, "Leaving so soon? It is quite rude of you to interrupt my speech."

Lúcio's upper lip curled as he turned to face the woman. He talked loudly in order to be heard by everyone, "I refuse to work with Vishkar. Count me out. Now if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to the shit you spew."

"Oh? That is a thing of the past, is it not? I was told you stood for peace and har-"

Lúcio laughed, "Seriously? Nah, you got me all wrong then. I forgive, but as sure as fuck don’t forget and I will never forget the injustice my people suffered. I will never forget who we are, what we endured, what we suffered and what you stood for." He stood proud and tall, as he yanked the door open, "Like I said: Count me out."

He stormed out of the room, trying his best to clam the quiver of his heart and the acid in his lungs. He wanted to say more, he wanted to scream, he wanted to punch his agents in the face for ever thinking Lúcio could work alongside Vishkar. 

Though it was yet to be confirmed, Lúcio was sure his last bodyguard had died at the hands of Vishkar. Sure, many thought he was paranoid, but Lúcio knew better. Vishkar wanted him gone, and he wouldn't be surprised if they had planned to slither their way in through his career. He made a mental note to leave his label behind as soon as possible. 

Lúcio had almost forgotten of Junkrat's and Roadhog's existence until the lanky male gave a loud whistle riddled with amusement.

"Short temper, oi mate? Ya should've seen Sheila's face, looked like she'd just swallowed a glass of vodka, all twisted and angry." He cackled, and suddenly forwned as he tugged at the tie around his neck, "Remind me to never get ya angry, aight? Wouldn't want to be at the end of that play."

Lúcio didn't reply.

Now, he wished he could burn those words into Jamie's skin, until his blood sizzled with the reminder: _I forgive, but never forget._

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Here, we breathe victory.

Here, we breathe the tears your mother shed, and the soil lost to those who thought themselves to be better.

Here, we are what's left.

Here, we are what remained of what's been stolen.

Here, we are the towns hidden beneath trash and rubble.

We are:

A piece of land that's worth the while.

A photograph of a loved one; the one lost, who was never found.

The blood within your veins.

Lungs which breathe baby blue.

What mother taught us.

What grandmother did not get to say.

Overshadowed politics.

What sustains our flag.

Towns without legs but we still dance, we still move.

The night who dies, the day who thrives.

The sun who dries us, the rain who washes us.

Saints which hang from gold necklaces- Oh, Virgin Mary, _bendita_ , who sits on her throne of roses and thorns.

Our skin is tough, our skin is iron, our necks are burnt and our hands are calloused.

And if our nest falls we rebuild it.

Here, we breathe victory.

Here, we stand tall and proud.

Here we are,

_Latino America._

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"So…" Hana popped her gum, her laptop and camera shook as she nestled deeper into the pillows propping her back and body.

Lúcio fixed his own webcam, frowning slightly at its odd angle. No matter how much he messed with the settings, he couldn't get a clear picture. The resolution was bad and he couldn't help but despise everything about long distance skype calls. Well, not everything…Despite the pixels and blurriness, Lúcio could still talk to his best friend.

She twisted her gum around her finger, lower lip puckered out as she spoke, "Are you sure you're doing okay? I was really worried…"

Lúcio sank into his office chair, and sighed, "Sorry, I would've called you sooner if I hadn't been so busy."

Finding an apartment near his mother's home had been difficult, because as much as she had insisted he moved back home, Lúcio knew he would need his own place, especially once he figured out how he would be producing music on his own. He promised he visit her everyday; a promise which he easily kept.

Hana persisted, "You could've answered my texts, I'm sure your hands weren't tied."

Lúcio laughed, "I needed to change my cell-phone provider Hana…I think you forget that moving to a whole other country isn't as easy as it sounds."

"I know, I know…I just…" Lúcio didn't need to see the whole picture to know she was tearing up, he could hear the absolute devastation in her voice, "I missed you."

"And I missed you." Lúcio said softly, "But hey, now that I'm all settled down I can keep in touch. I'll call you as often as I can."

"Promise?" The girl asked through a sniffle.

"I promise."

And Lúcio Correia dos Santos never broke a promise.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Within the second month, Lúcio finds an obscure coffee shop sitting just outside Leblon's district. He's almost surprised when he sees the help wanted sign propped up by a faded-orange pot. Usually, small unknown businesses were family owned, so closely knitted they wouldn't be asking for assistance unless it was desperately needed. With caution, he enters the shop, noting the empty tables adorned with bright flowers as he walked past them. For a moment, he's sure the coffee shop is abandoned but the strong scent of coffee beans and the soft melody coming from behind the counter said otherwise. It takes him a few seconds to locate the tiny old lady, at least, he assumed she was small in height until she stands up straight, almost a foot taller than Lúcio.

Her smile is sweet and welcoming and Lúcio is immediately floored with its kindness.

"It's always nice to see new customers, what would you like to drink today boy?"

Lúcio is surprised to find that the women isn't speaking in Portuguese only because small shops usually consisted of born and raised Brazilian families. He's even more surprised when he notes a faint accent within her English.

"Actually…I'm here because of the sign," He points a thumb towards the door, "If you still need the help, that is…"

"Oh," For brief second the women's eyes flicker towards the door, "I didn't think anyone would want to work here, but of course, the job is yours if you want it."

Lúcio arched an eyebrow, "Residents snatch jobs up as soon as one is available…Brazilians don't shy away from work."

The old woman chuckled and flapped a hand in the air, "Oh it has nothing to do with the residents foolish boy." She then sighed, "As I said before, it's always nice to see new customers since we hardly get them. I do believe the existence of this shop has been forgotten, but the fault rests within Leblon's new shops and entertainment centers."

Lúcio nodded, "I get that…"

He took a moment to inspect the small coffee shop. It's elegant windows, secured by long, velvet curtains which lazily hovered above wooden floorboards. The six tables pushed against the faded walls adorned in renaissance paintings and knickknacks were all decorated with fresh flowers- freshly picked and only recognized as such because of the garden Lúcio's mother took care of. Homely…Warm and comforting.

"Truth be told," The woman continued, "I don't know how much longer we'll be open. Don't think this job permanent, for I do not know where we will be a month from now."

Lúcio smiled, "Ma'am, the job is perfect."

It truly was. Lúcio wasn't ready to come out of hiding, not yet, and avoiding crowded and populated areas was his first priority. Whatever money he could receive from a part time job would go towards rent and bills. The cash he saved up from previous American tours, he'd keep safe and locked away.

The woman placed a hand over his, "Now, dear boy, do you know how to make coffee?"

Lúcio's smile is shy, almost nervous as he shakes his head, "No, but I would love to learn."

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Mako would fill their cups to the brim with tea, never coffee, oh no, never caffeine.

Jamie on caffeine was a sight both Mako and Lúcio would rather avoid.

And though Jamie slammed his fist down on the table and claimed he was capable of downing twenty jugs of pure, black coffee without it rushing to his head, Mako continued filling their cups to the brim with tea, never coffee, oh no, never caffeine.

Thinking about it now…Lúcio wished he could've shot twenty jugs of pure caffeine into the man's bloodstream.

Hopefully, that would kill him.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Ana (the old woman) hadn't been exaggerating when she said new customers were rare. Not that Lúcio had ever doubted her words, but experiencing it first hand left him flabbergasted. Within the third week Lúcio knew all of their regulars by heart, because really, it wasn't difficult to memorize the names of the six or seven people that came into the shop on a daily basis.

There was the shady, grumpy old man who had refused to acknowledge Lúcio's presence for a month straight. Ana had rubbed Lúcio's back and offered a smile, "Don't worry about it, he's a man of few words." And again, she wasn't lying: The man only spoke to thank Ana for the fresh cup of coffee, and would offer another gloomy thank you after he paid his tab. The first time Lúcio prepared the man a cup of coffee, he'd eyed it suspiciously, and slowly, he pressed the mug against his lips and tipped it back.

_Too sweet._

And with that, he finished it off.

Everyday, the man would taste the coffee and criticize it. Too hot, too sweet, too bitter, too stale, too cold. It was never perfect, but Lúcio was amused. He wasn't offended, not at all, in fact, he hoped to one day please the grumpy old man with the ragged wrinkles and stale crackling voice. He vowed he'd get it right even if it killed him.

He later learned the man's name: Jose.

There was the lady dressed in shades of pink. Up to the sparkling neon, rose-pink bow on her head to the tips of her brilliant pastel pink high-heels, the woman wore her favorite color like armor. She was awfully friendly, something Lúcio grew to admire. She'd wave her hands in the air as she talked about her cats, the funny names she bestowed upon their furry heads- Chappy, Poppy, Guppy, and Pollito.

Lúcio listened attentively, making sure to not drop the cup of steaming milky coffee onto the floor as he placed it before her.

He later learned the woman's name: Rosalinda. 

(Regardless, Lúcio nicknamed her Pinkie.)

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"What's yer favorite color Santos? No, no. Don't ya dare tell me…Lemme guess." Jamie folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against the balcony's railings, "Is it…Green?"

Lúcio threw his head back and laughed, "What gave it away?"

Jamie smirked as he took in Lúcio's green hoodie, and his bright green boxers covered in tiny frog heads, "I'm just really fuckin' talented."

"Right," Lúcio rolled his eyes, placed his laptop aside and hopped to his feet. With a cheeky smile he tugged at Jamie's belt loops, "And what's your favorite color? Is it yellow?"

Jamie wrinkled his nose, and shook his head, "Nah my favorite color is yer voice."

"T-that makes no sense!" Lúcio stuttered as his cheeks burned.

"It does," Twisting his fingers into Lúcio's hoodie, Jamie dragged him closer, close enough to feel Lúcio's hot breath against his neck, "Cos when ya talk it's like hearin' God's voice, except I ain't the religious type, but if I ever had to assign a voice to any type of God, they'd have yers. It's colorful..."

Lúcio didn't say anything, he couldn't, not when his face was buried deep in Jamie's chest, and Jamie, who was laughing like an idiot, could feel Lúcio's embarrassment leaking into the pores on his skin.

Thinking about it now, Lúcio wished he would've pushed Jamie off the balcony and into the raging traffic down below.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

The boy with the misty eyes. Bright! Bright like the fireflies Lúcio used to trap in glass jars, they'd hum with a forlorn sort of glow. He sits crossed-legged on the stool closest to the coffee bar. Peeking at Lúcio through dark eyelashes, he bites on his lip and taps (one by one) his fingers on the oak.

"Did your mom yell at you again?"

The boy nodded, and stretched his arms out. Mosquito bites and band-aids covered his dark skin, "Said I was being too loud." He said this with a mocking sort of tone, followed by a deep roll of bright, bright, autumn brown eyes.

Lúcio smiles fondly as he placed a mug of hot cocoa in front of the boy, who instantly perks up and wrapped his fingers around it.

Little Johnathan.

His mother is much too busy, much too overwhelmed. Stress droops her pretty face downwards, but her lips curve upwards in an attempt to conceal the thousand-million problems swarming her tired head. 

Lúcio doesn't mind looking after John as his mother takes care of phone calls and paper work. He doesn't ask what her line of work is, that would be rude, but Lúcio can tell she takes her job very seriously. She reminds him of his mother. Head-strong, kind, hard-working and nurturing, because when she's done taking care of business, she always scoops Johnathan into her arms, kisses his sleepy head, softly thanks Lúcio for looking after her child and leaves him a nice little tip for it.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Have ya ever done so many drugs ya thought yer face would melt off…Flow down, down, till yer nothin' but bone and tendons and raw muscle?" Jamie's speech is slurred as he planted his hands down on the bed, trapping Lúcio below his skinny body.

Lúcio glanced away from his phone, only to examine Jamie's dazed expression, "Can't say that I have."

"Good. Don't want ya to burn holes in that pretty brain of yers."

"But it's okay for you to do it?" Lúcio muttered, eyes quickly narrowing in accusation. 

"I gotta take care of ya."

"How?" Lúcio raised his knee, gently nudging Jamie on the stomach until the taller of the two rolled away from Lúcio and onto his back. Jamie's eyes struggled to focus on the ceiling's tiles, vision obscured by Lúcio's face as he crept closer, "How can you take care of me when you can barely take care of yourself?"

Jamie closed his eyes and sighed, "Sorry mate. Moving out is stressful. Half of the time I feel like I'm goin' ape shit crazy when we're strugglin' to figure out what we're gonna end up doin' once we get to Brazil."

Lúcio swallowed, "Maybe we should take a break from it? We can go somewhere nice tomorrow and unwind."

Jamie snorted and covered his face with his hand, "Ya know we ain't got the time for it."

"I know."

The room is filled with silence.

Lúcio twiddled with his dreadlocks, lost in his own thoughts, while Jamie remained motionless. The days have been tiring, almost boring when all they do is pack and stay indoors. Ever since Lúcio had announced he'd be leaving the states and heading back to Brazil, the media had been hot on his trail. Thankfully, his current address was unknown. It allowed him to rest easy, but it also meant his apartment was a prison. He didn't want to risk getting caught, and so, he didn't stray far from his front door. It made him uneasy, but he knew once he reached Brazil he would be free to do as he pleased.

They only had to wait…That is, if Jamie was willing to wait it out with him.

Lúcio moved closer to Jamie, fingers falling against the gaps of his ribcage, and resting there, waiting there, feeling the way Jamie's chest contrasts and expands with each breath he takes.

"You won't leave me, will you?"

There's no reply.

Lúcio thinks Jamie has fallen asleep, and with all the alcohol he consumed, Lúcio wouldn't be surprised if sleep had taken over his sluggish body.

Or maybe…

Jamie had been awake but hadn't had the heart to answer Lúcio's weak, tiny question.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Halfway into the first year, Lúcio begins to hurt.

He'd kept himself busy. Moving back to Brazil, catching up with his family, trying to find a decent apartment to live in while maintaining a job was all very tiring but kept his mind from straying. Over all, he was thankful for the distractions but he didn't quite focus on his need to avoid all thoughts revolving around Jamie until Lúcio noticed the empty bedroom besides his. He paused by the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot before he moved forward.

They'd agreed to get a two-bedroom apartment, Jamie and Lúcio would share one room, and the other would be occupied by Mako. That had been the plan, and Lúcio had stuck by it. At the time, Lúcio was certain Jamie and Mako would be back at his side within three months, he had trusted them to carry through, but once the seventh month of the year took over the calendar, Lúcio was left staring at the orange walls of the empty apartment.

As he shuts the door, he doesn't think he's in denial, he doesn't linger on the ugly thoughts swelling the left side of his brain. However, he does think he should do something about the second bedroom, perhaps fill it up with books and other personal belongings so it seemed less empty, at least, until Mako can take over and claim it as his own.

Mako will fill it up with plushies, sewing kits, magazines, tools, clothes, teacups and tea sets, and it will be nice.

It will be less lonely.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Despite months spent working besides Ana, Lúcio hardly knows the woman. He knows she's kind, compassionate, intelligent and strong. He knows she has a daughter, he's seen pictures of her as a child. He doesn't know her name, or where she currently lives, or what she does for a living.

He knows she's younger than him.

He knows Ana misses her.

He doesn't pry, it would be rude.

On a particularly empty day, Ana pats his hand once he's done washing the dishes.

"You're like the son I never had."

Lúcio beams with pride.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lúcio curls in on himself as he clutches at his chest. He's not one to cry, in fact, over the months he spent wondering what the hell was taking Jamie so long, Lúcio had yet to shed tears at the memory of a man who claimed to love him.

Now, he can't help the tears that stream down his face. He hugs one of the many pillows littering his bed and buries his head in it.

And he cried until his body ached.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"There's a bad, bad storm coming Mr. Lúcio." Johnathan said as he swung his legs in the air, the stool he currently occupied much too high off the ground for his small feet to make proper contact.

Lúcio placed the mug he was drying down on the counter and arched an eyebrow, "You pay attention to that kind of stuff?"

The boy shook his head, dread-locks bouncing off his round cheeks as he moved, "I only know because I over-heard mommy talking about it."

"Are you scared?"

"Nope!"

Lúcio smiled and pinched his cheek, "Good, cause I won't let anything baad happen to you."

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

The next day was spent crowded around the furthest corner from the coffee shop's windows. The shop had filled up with passerby's desperate to escape the harsh winds and rain. Lúcio and Ana offered the people warm cups of coffee and hot chocolate.

John clung to Lúcio's leg, and once he had made sure everyone in the shop had a steaming mug in their palms, Lúcio scooped the boy into his arms and rocked him back and forward. The intention was to sing the boy to sleep, but once Lucia noticed he had an audience (for the customers were all eyeing him rather fondly) he took a seat on the chair John frequently occupied. Lúcio placed the child on his lap and gently beat his own hands against the counter. The rhythm started out slowly, until John joined him by slapping his hands against the oak in a familiar pattern.

Truth be told, Lúcio preferred to stick to his turntables, but now that he lacked the proper equipment he made do with what he had.

Not that long ago, Lúcio had pieced together a few lyrics to go along with one of his original remixes, and now, as he sang over the rolling thunder, the people cheered him on.

This stirred a wave of nostalgia, it crept over his spine and he couldn't help but smile as the customers joined him in the simple chorus. It reminded him of past days, when his bare feet would hit the dirty streets of the Favela his family called home.

Though he wasn't surrounded by the familiar presence of the people of Rocinha, his veins and vocal chords glowed with the desire to comfort those less fortunate than him- To those who'd gone through the very same hard-ships as him- To those he called family.

The last time he had worked on his music was back in the states. Though he had purchased new turntables the moment he had set up his new apartment, Lúcio had yet to unpack them from their cardboard prison. He simply lacked the motivation to do anything other than sleep, eat and go to work.

It's easy, so easy, to weave new words into his current song. And as the people of the shop joined in, Lucio's smiler grew wider and wider.

It's so easy.

His eyes burn with tears.

This is what he had been missing.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Of course, Lucio hasn't forgotten: Jamison Fawkes used to be his cold, distant bodyguard.

The first few months had been filled with uncomfortable silence and tension. It was in Lucio's nature to befriend as many people as he possibly could, but Jamison had made it crystal clear he had no desire to close the distance between the two.

At a loss, Lucio retreated. He only watched his lanky bodyguard through the corners of his eyes. It wasn't the he was intimidated, oh no, he simply did not want to acknowledge the great discomfort that came with being disliked.

He remembers the time he'd been on the brink of a meltdown, he was tired, hungry and exhausted from hours spent trying to meet his deadline. All he had wanted to do was take a walk around the block and with the intention to do just that, Lucio reached for his jacket and baseball hat, walked towards the front door, only to be stopped by his bodyguard.

It was Junkrat's second day on the job but he was already proving himself to be a pain. Junkrat couldn't keep Lucio imprisoned, and so, he was forced to trail behind him.

They didn't talk.

They hardly did.

Lucio wished it would've remained that way.

He wished…He could take it back. He wished he could take back the day he'd asked Jamison Fawkes to walk besides him.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

It happens on a Friday morning.

Ana had given him the day off after working non-stop for a week straight. Lúcio said he didn't mind. Truth be told, he was thankful for the extra hours. His job kept his wondering mind occupied. Which was exactly why he found himself stumped when Ana pushed him out the door and refused him entry.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he decided he would visit his mother.

The walk to her house was rather short seeing as he'd made sure his apartment, his job, and his mother's house were all within a reasonable distance.

Walking without having to keep his guard up felt nice. Leblon's streets were much more secure than those within Favelas, and though he enjoyed visiting the children of Rocinha, he could go without the creeping sensation that he was being watched. While on the subject, Lúcio made a mental note to visit the kids who always anticipated his arrival, if not within the next few days, then certainly within the next week.

As always, his mother greeted her son with a warm and tight embrace.

She insisted- Lúcio had to eat. The man was forced into the kitchen, where his mother served him a huge plate of (as big as his forearm) feijoada, accompanied by a side-dish of rice. Though Lúcio wasn't sure he could finish the entire meal, his tummy grumbled in delight when the rich smell of beans and pork entered his nostrils.

The last time he had been served a proper hot meal that did not consist of microwavable mac & cheese, was over a year ago, when Mako and Jamie had gone out of their way to-

No.

Not now.

Shoving the memory aside, he started shoveling food into his mouth as his mother told him the latest piece of gossip, nothing he was really interested in. If the neighbors had bought a new car or if a politician had purchased the land above theirs, Lúcio didn't really care, but it was always nice and relaxing to hear what his mother had to say.

After his plate had been cleared (much to his amazement) Lúcio's mother guided him out into the small garden behind the house. Rose bushes of many sizes and colors, crowded the ends of the yard. He helped her trim the thorn adorned branches, being careful to mind his fingers, otherwise his mother would fuss.

He shouldn't have been surprised when she wiped her sweaty brow and placed her clippers on the ground, a sort of cautious look in her eyes as she ran her fingers down his right cheek.

"Ele não vem?" (Is he not coming?)

The question rang in his ears for a few seconds, before Lúcio smiled and brushed her hand away. He wished he could feign confusion or ignorance, but he knew his mother would not stand for it. There was no use lying. Besides, it wasn't that he didn't want his mother to know the truth, he simply didn't know how to shape his feelings and thoughts into words.

"Não. Acho que não." (No. I don't think he is.)

Lúcio had mentioned Jamie to his mother once or twice over the phone. Though he didn't go into too much detail, she could tell her son was rather fond of the other man. He'd told her Jamie would accompany him to Brazil, and of course, she'd been surprised when Lúcio had arrived alone, but she hadn't questioned him or the situation.

As they sat under a cloud dusted sky, she waited patiently, until Lúcio looked away from the red tinted roses and met her comforting gaze.

"Tô cansado de esperar" (I'm done waiting.)

Because a year had gone by and Mako's room was still empty and untouched, because the letters he'd written out to Jamie's name had a thick layer of dust over them, because between the silence and the kind smile his mother offered him, Lúcio realized one thing: He was fine on his own.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

After she'd spent the entire morning eyeing Lúcio, Ana finally approached him.

"How come you didn't mention your celebrity status?"

Lúcio blushed, "I didn't think it was important," He rubbed the back of his neck, "And I'm trying to take a break from it."

Ana nodded, "I don't know much about the music your generation listens to, but I knew I recognized your voice…" She smiled, "I hadn't seen you smile as wide as you did on that day…"

Lúcio thought he spotted a hint of pity in her soft eyes, "I do miss it…But…" He shrugged, "It's not like I have a stage anymore."

"Is that all that's stopping you?"

He hesitated, "Somewhat."

She spread her arms open, "Then consider the shop your stage."

"Are you serious?"

"Why not? Our regulars are fond of you, and it's not like this place ever draws a crowd. Your secret is safe with us."

Lúcio's lower lip trembled as he swept Ana into a tight embrace, "Thank you!"

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Though Lúcio had carefully managed his savings, he quickly came to realize he was recklessly losing hundreds of dollars on an apartment meant for two or three people.

He didn't think he could find a roommate, at least, not one that could potentially be kicked out once Jamie and Mako arrived-

Shaking his head, he resisted the urge to slap himself.

He had to stop clinging to the past.

After days spent in doubt, Lúcio finally decided to post a _Roommate wanted_ notice in the local newspaper. While he was almost certain he wouldn't find someone who could meet his requirements, he knew he had to at least try.

He put down his age, his cellphone number, a thorough description of the apartment, and other basic criteria his roommate would have to meet.

All he had to do now was wait- Lúcio almost laughed.

He was fucking good at waiting, wasn't he?

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Genji met someone shortly after your catastrophic date together." Hana said between a mouthful of cereal.

"I'm glad…I felt real guilty after ditching him." Lúcio answered as he fixed the screen of his laptop.

Hana giggled, "He didn't mind. He was just worried by the end of it all."

"Is the new guy hot?"

"Jealous?"

Lúcio blew a raspberry, "Nah, just curious." 

"I haven't had a proper look yet, but the guy has a thing for cowboy hats…"

"Sounds tasty."

She choked, "Lúcio, God, you really need to get out more…When was the last time you hit the club and brought someone back with you?"

Lúcio rolled his eyes, "You know I don't do one-night stands, and I'm not in a rush to meet someone new."

"It's been over a year now Lúcio…" Hana started out carefully, "I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't be. I was fine before I met Jamie, and even now, I don't need anyone to keep me company."

Hana grumbled, but knew when Lúcio was ready to change the subject. Not wanting to make her friend uncomfortable, she quickly began telling Lúcio of yet another whacky situation she endured during one of her most recent streams.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Over three months later, Lúcio has interviewed at least three potential roommates, and turned down all of them. He was surprised to find that over a dozen candidates had applied, but of course, most turned out to be highly under-qualified.

He was aware of how picky he was being, but he simply refused to share his apartment with a slob, or someone who would fail to pay half of their share for bills and rent.

He'd almost given up and taken the add down when he gets a sudden text:

_Are you still looking for a roommate?_

_Hell, I know this is late._

_But I wanted to check in, just in case._

_I'm a 25 year old woman._

_Have a steady job._

_Currently in Brazil because my job brought me here._

Lúcio stared at the number before he texts back a reply.

He sets up an interview for tomorrow, which the unknown woman quickly replies back to with a thank you.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Are you sure you're comfortable living with a man?" Lúcio asked as he pushed himself away from the table.

Lena scoffed, and smiled, "I can handle myself just fine Love. Besides, you seem trust worthy."

Lúcio couldn't help but smile back, "That's nice to hear."

Lúcio was quite surprised to learn that the woman's personal belongings could all be found within the space of her small backpack. She smiled shyly, tilting her head to the side as she spoke, "I didn't bring much with me…I thought I could buy everything I needed here."

Later, as they shared a large pizza (personally prepared and baked by Lena herself) she confessed she was only in Brazil for a couple of months.

"My group is here to help the children of Brazil. I'm a teacher." She said the last part with pride, and Lúcio felt his chest warm with admiration.

Lúcio took a bite out of his slice of pizza, swallowing the cheesy mess down before replying, "The teachers here need all the help they can get. I'm guessing you'll be focusing on Favelas."

Lena nodded, "They haven't told me which one yet, but I'm sure they'll let us know soon."

"How many of you are there?"

"Five groups of three. Each will be sent to different locations." She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, "I'm really looking forward to it!"

"I'm sure the children will love you."

She blushed, "My Portuguese isn't as fluent as I want it to be, but I will try my hardest to teach them!"

After that, they flipped through the t.v and settled on Family Feud, and for once, Lúcio wasn't plagued with the desire to throw the remote at the screen. 

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lúcio had set up his turntables in one of the corners of the coffee shop. Ana was right, despite Lúcio's popularity, word did not get around, though she warned him that eventually it would. For now, Lúcio was content playing for a small crowd of six, sometimes, less.

He kept his music on a soft note, it was a coffee shop after all, not a rave club. One of the regulars, a man around Lúcio's age, commented on it: It's almost therapeutic.

Lúcio laughed, and thanked him.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

On the days Ana takes a break from the coffee shop, Lúcio can easily juggle taking orders, serving coffee, cleaning up after himself and the customers (who often lend him a hand) and throwing together a few beats for his audience.

He's proud of himself when he's able to spot a new face among the tiny crowd. No matter how occupied he is, he can still handle himself perfectly well. He greets the new person with an excited smile, eager to learn what brought him into Ana's secluded coffee shop.

The man is big, much, much bigger than Lúcio. He would've been deeply disappointed in himself if he hadn't noticed the tall, dark male enter the shop. It's not until the stranger takes a seat near Lúcio's work station that the DJ gets a good look at his new customer.

Sharp eyes, like almonds, dark, dark irises. He has rough features, like the type molded and shaped into golden sculptures and later sold for millions of dollars. He's too pretty, too handsome to be real.

He wore a suit, the fabric fitting him perfectly. Tight around his board chest, waist and thighs.

Lúcio feels his face burn.

He hates how his legs turn to jelly, he hates how his breath gets caught in his throat when the man draws his attention onto Lúcio's small form, and smiles.

"Nice place you have here."

While Lúcio can't pinpoint his accent (unlike Lena's, who basically screamed British descent) he knows the man is not Brazilian. Perhaps, a tourist? He's too shy to ask. Instead he tries his best to keep his own voice from breaking into a pathetic squeak, "Not mine, but it does feel like home."

"I can tell." The man chuckled, and Lúcio's heart accelerated.

"What gave it away?"

"Your movements and facial expressions. They're all very calming. You seem to genuinely enjoy working here."

"I do." Lúcio confirmed with a short nod, "So, what can I get you today?"

The man paused, glancing at the small menu on the table, "I'm not sure…I don't frequent places like these…"

Lúcio arched an eyebrow, and adjusted his apron just slightly, "I see. Then how about tea?"

"Can't say I have any that I like." The man gave the piece of paper a final glance and turned his attention on Lúcio, who wanted to desperately melt into a puddle, "How about you bring me **your** favorite drink."

Oh faded heart, how it beats within his chest, rather fiercely. Lúcio's face grows hot, and he's well aware how he looks with his mouth hanging open, and the man with the silver tongue gives him no time to recover, for he adds in a simple but effective, "I want to know what your taste is like."

Lúcio scurried back into the kitchen, crouched, tucked his head between his knees, and internally screamed.

In his chest, the little cogs of his heart begin to turn.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

After wasting ten minutes trying to decide what his favorite drink was, Lúcio finally settles for a nice mug of cocoa, topped off with whipped cream and ribbons of caramel. He presented the hot drink with a small, and nervous smile. If the man noticed, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he dipped his finger in the foamy whipped cream, and slowly, painfully slow…He licked it off.

"Not bad."

Without asking for permission, Lúcio sits across from the man in the small booth, more than amused by the strangers behavior. After minutes spent freaking out in the kitchen, Lúcio pulled himself together. He had been easily swayed at first, but now, he was alert.

Lúcio wasn't the type to turn to mush around others. Oh no. It was **his** job to make others melt in the palm of his hand.

He eyed the man with a calculating gaze, brown eyes as sharp as those mysterious, dark ones.

"I'm Lúcio, and you are-?"

"Akande." Akande's expression was relaxed as he leaned back in his seat, "Straightforward, aren't you?"

Lúcio smirked, "Why waste time with small talk?"

"Agreed." Akande took a sip of his drink, and Lúcio had to hold back a laugh. The large man looked even bigger when he held the small mug in his hands, "If we're skipping feigned ignorance and pointless chatter, then I assume it's okay to ask why the famous Lúcio Correia dos Santos is currently working in an obscure coffee shop."

He hummed, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips, "Yes, you can ask. That doesn't mean I'll give you an answer, does it?"

Akande was more than entertained, "Intelligent and talented. You've worked hard to get where you are."

Lúcio was caught off guard, but quickly regained his cool, "Funny…Most people want to call it luck."

"That's incredibly inaccurate. It’s also infuriating how the media refuses to cover the back story's of those who come from rough backgrounds."

He snorted, "Not surprising. Hollywood loves to keep everything picture perfect."

Akande was silent for a couple of seconds before he spoke up, "Your real fans know the truth."

At this, Lúcio's eyes widened, "Implying…You're a fan?"

For the first time since their conversation began, Lúcio watched as Akande withdrew his intense stare, and hid behind his palm, "How can I not be? Your music is great."

Fuck…

Again, Lúcio blushed and cringed when his voice broke off into an awkward screech, "Thanks…Uh, for supporting me, and my career."

"No problem…It's my pleasure."

Ah…there goes his heart.

Beating again.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

**| Hana Banana| sent: 7:32**

Soooooooooo do you like him? O:

**| Lucio Correia Dos Pantos | sent: 7:33**

I just met him like two days ago. It's too early to tell.

**| Hana Banana | sent: 7:33**

Lucioooooo has a crussssssssh! How cute!

**| Lucio Correia Dos Pantos | sent: 7:34**

I do not! I just…

I don't know.

Kind of don't want to get wrapped up in anymore bullshit.

**| Hana Banana | sent: 7:34**

He sounds like a nice guy.

Give him a chance.

**| Lucio Correia Dos Pantos |  sent: 7:35**

You said the same thing about Jamie.

**| Hana Banana | sent: 7:36**

And I stand by what I said.

The guy went into a burning building to rescue you.

No matter where he ran off to afterwards, I will always be thankful that he saved my best friend…

**| Lucio Correia dos Pantos | sent: 7:39**

Hana…

That's in the past.

He's not coming back.

**| Hana Banana | sent: 7:42**

I know. That's why I'm telling you to give this new guy a chance.

Oh!

I have to go!

Ttyl <3

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lúcio stared at Hana's last message, typed back a quick goodbye and placed his phone down on his bed. He swept an arm over his face and sighed.

 As of late, Lúcio had done nothing but focus on the hurt and anger Jamie had made him feel, and as time carried on, it was difficult to remember the good things Jamie had done for him.

He supposed, for a long while, he'd recall Jamie's burns, and missing limbs and feel nothing but pure guilt. Jamie had risked his life in order to safe Lúcio's. That was something he couldn't easily dismiss. He remembers the restless nights and days spent besides Jamie's hospital bed, wishing, hoping, praying he'd see those big, honey brown eyes light up with life. All his doubts would melt away within the blink of an eye when he'd remember Jamie's thin hands on his cheeks, and his chapped lips on the shell of his ear, whispering, _"We'll meet again, I'll find ya."_

_And I'll wait for you._

And wait he did! Lúcio waited patiently, watching the days turn to months, and the months turn to years.

Because now he was dangerously close to hitting the two year mark.

No longer could he comfort himself with faded memories and broken promises.

After awhile, Lúcio grew convinced that the only reason why Jamie had risked his life to save Lúcio's was because the Junker was under the impression that it was his job, as his former bodyguard, to do so.

Mako had said old habits die hard once, hadn't he?

Apparently, it hadn't been an exaggeration.

If Jamie had gone back to Junkertown and realized how pointless his shared moments with Lúcio had been, he wouldn't be surprised. The younger male had been itching to blow buildings to pieces for several months, being cooped up in an apartment did not satisfy his chaotic desires, Lúcio knew this.

Why would Jamie want to return to a place where all he did was look after Lúcio? To a place free of explosions and gun-powder. It was in his blood to destroy whatever his greedy little fingers touched, it was in his blood to set fire to the trees and the skies.

He realized he'd been an idiot for believing that someone like Junkrat could put his violent past behind him.

Yes, Lúcio was an incredibly stupid boy for falling in love with Jamie.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Shortly after, Lúcio draws in a crowd. For an instant, he considers cowering away from the surprising amount of customers gathered at the sides of his turntables, but he only holds his head up high and gifts them with one of his best performances.

And as Lúcio glowed and thrived among the attention of his fans, he could feel Akande's eyes burning holes into the small of his back, his hands, his arms, his neck. Lúcio could taste the man's need, the hunger, the desire that dwelled behind his eyelids and rolled off his tongue as a simple cheer: a simple cheer of his name.

Lúcio smirked.

He was in control.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"You hired Junkers to protect you?" Akande whistled, "Reckless."

Lúcio rolled his eyes, "Not like I had much of a choice."

The alarm and panic he'd felt when his previous bodyguard had been mysteriously slaughtered had shaken Lúcio to his core. He was well aware of Vishkar's power and subtly, and to think an academy trained bodyguard could stand their ground against them had been foolish. Lúcio wasn't making the same mistake twice.

Junkrat and Roadhog were his best bet, he'd known this the moment his agents warned him of their impulsive and chaotic nature. He had shared many secrets with Jamie (and at times, Mako) but Lúcio always kept one thing to himself: The only reason why Jamie and Mako found the bodyguard gig to be a _boring and secure_ job was because Vishkar had retreated as soon as they'd seen the two Junkers trailing behind Lúcio's footsteps.

The fire had been no coincidence. Lúcio was certain it had been Vishkar's attempt to smoke the trio out after Lúcio had lost his record label.  Though Mako and Jamie had never voiced the shared suspicion, Lúcio knew it was there, lingering in the back of their heads.

"Junkers are untrustworthy, greedy and selfish." Akande continued, "Quite brave, or should I say, idiotic, of you to trust them with your life."

"They weren't bad people," Lúcio lowered his gaze, "I got along with them just fine."

After Lúcio's shift had been over, he'd made sure to clean and lock up the shop. He had been quite surprised to find Akande waiting for him outside. The man had offered to walk Lúcio home, an offer Lúcio couldn't refuse.

The man stood almost three feet taller than him, and if it weren't for the stilled silence, Lúcio would've laughed at himself for always going after skyscrapers. They were both walking slower than usual- Lúcio basked in the presence of another human being, while Akande genuinely enjoyed hearing the smaller man talk.

"Even so, they could've betrayed your trust. There's been several cases where Junkers turn on their employer."

With a frown, Lúcio opened his mouth to protest, but Akande cut him off, "I know. It seems cruel and close-minded to categorize all Junkers under the same labels. They're a small group, completely individualized, and independent. But they do what they do to survive under the rough circumstances of Junkertown." Akande scratched his cheek, "That being said, I have yet to personally socialize with a Junker."

Lúcio breathed out, "Well my own experience was a combination of good and bad."

"How so?"

Lúcio paused, "…It's complicated."

Akande seemed to understand Lúcio's discomfort and instead steered the conversation in another direction.

They talked about everything and nothing: Their favorite t.v shows, least favorite celebrities, favorite music, the unpredictable weather of Brazil, the weird guy who kept blowing kisses in Lúcio's direction each time he took up the coffee shop as his stage, and John, oh how Lúcio adored that child.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Sweet innocent Lúcio- Hard working, independent, kind, a people-pleaser.

Never done a bad thing in his life. His smile bright and radiant enough to put the morning sun to shame. His sweetness potent enough to rot teeth.

Ah boy so wonderful. A boy adored and praised.

It was all wrong.

At least Lúcio thought so.

While he deeply cared for his friends, family and fans, he was only human.

He'd drink until he couldn't feel his insides, smoke laced weed until his brain turned to mush. He'd pin Junkrat below his thighs and fucked him until Jamie couldn't breathe.

Yes, he'd noticed the way certain men and women eyed him- he's a walking piece of candy. He knows he's handsome, he knows he's talented.

But he only ever wanted…Needed one man.

While Jamison could be quite possessive, Lúcio was worse.

There was a certain kind of twisted thrill that came with forcing Jamie to scream his name during sex. Like the loud screams of a crowd during one of his concerts, except Jamie was the only one yelling. Jamie was the only audience Lúcio wanted.

 _Lúcio,_ Jamie would utter, as sweat rolled down his face.

**Lúcio.**

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lena sat with her legs tucked underneath her, pink fingernails brushing over Lúcio's palms as she tucked his hand closer, "Pretty, did you fill them in yourself?"

Lúcio gave a small noise of confirmation, "Learned from the best."

Lena twisted her lips into a smile, head lolling to the side in an attempt to get a better angle on Lúcio's face, which was hidden behind a curtain of thin dread-locks dyed in pinks and blues, "Who taught you?"

"One of my ex-bodyguards. He was weird about his nails. Everyday he put on three coats of black nail polish. Since he did lots of heavy lifting, they would always chip and he hated that." Lúcio smiled sadly, "He said it relaxed him, so while he was at it, he also painted mine and his partner's nails."

"How sweet, what was his name?" Lena obliviously asked.

Lúcio pulled his hair away from his face, "Mako."

"He sounds nice."

"He was."

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

He's all muscle.

Lúcio's breath hitched as Akande pressed his body against the wall. Automatically, Lúcio wrapped his legs around his waist, his talons barely touching as he enclosed Akande within his powerful thighs. Akande bites at his neck and Lúcio tipped his head back, a lustful moan pushed past his lips.

Lúcio runs his hands down the front, silk fabric of Akande's shirt. He can feel the firm muscle contrast under his open palm as Lúcio slowly popped each button open. Once the skin is exposed, Lúcio marvels at how soft Akande feels. There's a few scars running down toned abs, and Lúcio mouth almost waters when he notes the white-tainted tattoos stretched across the sides of Akande's waist. They almost seemed to glow pressed against Akande's dark tone…

Pretty, Lúcio thinks.

Lúcio grinds against Akande, until the taller male retreats from the wall, only to toss Lúcio onto the floor of the living room. Instantly, Akande is upon him. Lúcio isn't having any of it. He quickly turned the tables as he collected all of his strength onto his arms and pinned Akande below him. The man looked surprised by the sudden change, but of course, he doesn't complain.

Ah, how Akande's hands feel pressed against Lúcio's legs, thumbs massaging the inside of his thighs. Nothing like Jamie's twig-like fingers, who hurt and bruised Lúcio's soft skin. Nothing like Jamie's starving bones, his thin arms and waist. Nothing like the death valley of his hungry belly, and all Lúcio could find in the inside of his mouth was brittle dog teeth and a pulsing need to devour that which was not his to have nor hold.

His skinny thighs, his skinner wrists, all displayed before Lúcio. His to take. His to swallow. The wispy moans and pleads slipping past Jamie's parted lips- They belonged to Lúcio. His sharp tongue, his saliva, as it dribbled down his chin and Lúcio licked it up as if it were his only source of life. Not a droplet to spare.

Jamie's pale eyelashes, his dirty freckled cheeks, his broken nose, his crooked smile, and chapped lips which always tasted like blood and smoke and lies: sweet, sweet, sweet lies that ripple and flow like rancid streams of honey.

Jamison Fawkes is a liar.

Lúcio Correia dos Santos is a fool.

A fool who frantically pulled away from Akande's kiss, because suddenly Lúcio's tongue ached and his hands won't stop shaking.

Lúcio's heart beats itself against his chest- _Hush little heart…_

He has no time to compose himself or explain the thick droplets of regret resting at the back of his throat because his voice is consumed by the loud sound of the front door hitting one of the apartment's walls.

This is where Lúcio turns his head and sees Jamie's disappointed expression, the angry curl of his lips, and hears the feral grow vibrating within his mouth. This is where Lúcio's world comes crashing down. This is where he realizes he's still desperately and pathetically in love with his former bodyguard, who fumes and clenches his jaw with seething rage. His yellow eyes are slits of burning fire-

Except Jamie isn't there.

Lena's face is a bright red as her eyes flicker between Lúcio and Akande. A nervous, awkward giggle slipped from between her fingers, which were pinned to her lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be having company over…I'll just-" She quickly closed the door behind her and made a beeline to her bedroom.

Below him, Akande placed a hand on Lúcio's shoulders, his heavy fingers rubbing circles against the tense muscles. Lúcio's attention flipped between the closed door, and onto Akande's concerned expression. Carefully, Akande removed Lúcio from his lap and helped him settle onto the couch. It takes Lúcio a few minutes to snap out of his daze, but once he does, he stared at his guest in a mixture of shock and horror.

"I'm sorry…" The words feel foreign when they drop from his mouth, and into the empty air.

He's sorry for thinking about Jamie while in the arms of another man. He's sorry that after almost two years, he's unable to let go of a melted and tarnished past. He's sorry for losing control. He's sorry for realizing that his pathetic heart beats for one man and one man alone.

Akande softly laughed, "What's their name?"

Lúcio would be surprised by Akande's accurate guess, but he knew the man was intelligent enough to piece the situation together.

"Jamison."

"Lucky guy."

Lúcio shook his head, "Not at all. I haven't seen or heard from him in two years."

"Let me guess, Jamison is a Junker."

"Does it matter?" He doesn't mean to sound as defensive as he does, but Akande only waves it off.

"Not entirely."

Lúcio bit down on his lip, teeth sinking deep into the flesh and it parts, it splits until blood trickled languidly down his chin. Akande arched an eyebrow before pulling Lúcio's face into his hands. He uses the sleeve of his shirt to clean off Lúcio's mouth, and the smaller man squirmed in his seat.

"It's a bad habit…I didn't realize I-"

"It's fine Lúcio." Akande released Lúcio but not before making sure all the blood had been cleaned off, "Want to talk about it?"

"About what/" Lúcio replied, quite stubbornly.

"About whatever has you so worried you don't notice you're eating your lip raw."

Lúcio frowned, gritting his teeth together. He considered swallowing it all down, much like he'd been doing for the past years, but Akande's comforting gaze was all the encouragement Lúcio needed.

"I know he's a Junker. I know of his negative qualities, as well as his good ones. I know that if he had wanted to come back, he would've by now. He's good at tracking people, that wasn't the problem, that was never the problem. He could've easily figured out a way to contact me… He's not stupid enough to get himself caught by the authorities. He's smart enough to build himself a new arm, and a leg, all within the span of three to four months…The only thing that could've crippled his movements is death." Lúcio grimaced, "He's not dead. He's too stubborn to die."

He dug his nails into the cushion of the couch below his legs, anger bubbling in his tone as he continued, "He's a god dam liar. He lied to me. He found he couldn't leave his life as a Junker behind, so he stayed home. Because I was never his home. I was never-" Lúcio's voice quivered, and he screwed his eyes closed, "I was never important to him. It's been two years…I've realized all of this, and yet, I can't seem to let go of him. I'm an idiot."

Akande didn't say anything, instead he continued stroking Lúcio's back and he didn't stop until the man ceased his consistent shaking.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

After Akande had departed (and after Lúcio had apologized for his behavior for the millionth time) Lúcio took it upon himself to prepare a bowl of popcorn. Though he burned half the bag, he salvaged some oft the crispy, buttery bits, and placed them all in a small plate.

He knocked on Lena's door, shifted his weight from foot to foot and only breathed a sigh of relief when she opened her door and offered Lúcio an embarrassed smile.

Holding out the bowl, he bowed his head just a little, "I thought you might want to watch the new episode of Game of Thrones together."

"I would love to!"

They settled on the couch eating from the same bowl, and it wasn't until the episode was over that Lúcio broke the silence, or at least, had attempted to do so before Lena beat him to it.

"I was surprised to see Mr.Ogundimu here."

At this, Lúcio cocked his head, "Mr?"

"Ah yes, well you see, he's my professor."

Oh. Lúcio's cheeks became a bright red, and Lena couldn't help but copy his expression.

"I didn't know Akande was a professor…"

"Really?" Lena's eyes widened, "But you're…uh…Together, aren't you?"

"Not…Exactly."

"Well that makes sense." Lena stated with a little too much understanding.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, our group is only here for a temporary amount of time. A few months or so." She tapped a finger to her lips, "Unless you were thinking of going back to England with him?"

"Oh…That's right…You're only here to help out…" Lúcio ran a hand down his face, "Not that it matters, we never talked about making anything official. We were only trying to get to know each other."

"You seem to know each other pretty well then." Lena replied with a smirk.

Lúcio softly smacked her on the arm, "Shut it."

He interrupted her joyous laughter with a soft apology, "Sorry though, I should've given you a warning but, it happened so quickly. One moment we were talking about making dinner, and the next, he had me pinned to a wall."

"Oh it's totally fine. If my girlfriend, Emily, lived here, you'd be walking in on us all of the time." She said with a huge smile, which quickly faltered under a sudden hum of concern, "Although…I know it's none of my business but, perhaps you should take it slow. It's alarming that you didn't even know his line of work…"

He knew Lena's intentions were good, and friendly, but it only managed to strengthen his embarrassment, "Trust me, I'm not the type to sleep around…I just…" He shrugged, "I wasn't really thinking. He's a nice guy, I like him, but you're right, I'm moving way too fast."

"Nice?" Lena chuckled, "That's a first. His students usually say he's too strict or too formal. They sometimes call him Doomfist behind his back because the guy looks like he could crush you with his fist alone. So if he's nice to you... He must really like you then."

Lúcio grinned, "What can I say? I'm quite the charmer."

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

It's black.

The smoke unwinds and coils around Lúcio's fingers before it dissolves into the air.

One, by one, Lúcio burns the pile of letters he'd written and collected over the years.

Much like Jamie had wanted to die.

A pile of ash.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

They drink a lot of coffee.

Akande likes his simple, black, and strong, while Lúcio prefers to stick to cream and sugar.

Lúcio was still embarrassed by his abrupt behavior, but thankfully, Akande hadn't touched upon the subject.

"There's no changing your mind?"

He shook his head, "No. I know what I have to do."

Akande sighed, glancing down at the dark liquid in his mug, "Your company will be missed."

Lúcio snorted, "Really? But you're only here for a few months. We were fated to say goodbye."

"I would've called. I'm not much of a texter, but I would've checked up on you."

"You still can." Lúcio clicked his nails over the rosebuds embedded alongside the edges of his coffee cup, "Besides, this is my home, and I will be back. My heart belongs here, in Brazil."

Akande laughed, and Lúcio's heart ached.

He wished he could've fallen in love with the rough yet gentle nature of his laughter, instead of the cackle of dry fireworks and explosions.

If he had met Akande first and never known of Jamison's existence he surely would've fallen in love with him.

What a shame.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Are you sure about this?" Ana asked for the third time that day.

Lúcio's smile stretched wide with understanding and a slight ounce of sympathy, "Yes, I'm sure."

She handed him a decently sized envelope. Inside, were his earnings for the last two weeks. Lúcio didn't have to open it and count the money, he trusted her.

"You know you'll always have a home here." She said through a painfully thin smile.

"Thank you." He took the small woman into his arms and kissed her forehead, "I'll be back, I promise."

 - __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"I still think you're being stupid…" Hana began, clearly unamused by Lúcio's unexpected announcement.  
Besides him, Lena rocked back on the balls of her feet and agreed with Hana, "You should take some more time to think about it."  
  
The two girls had become good friends. Lena would at times shove Lúcio away from his laptop just so she could cheerfully greet Hana through the webcam. Lúcio didn't mind, in fact, he was glad his friends liked each other. However, their friendship seemed to be a problem only when Lena and Hana teamed up against him.  
  
Lúcio rubbed at his face, and groaned, "Listen…I know what I'm doing." He ignored Hana's tiny mutters of disapproval and continued, "More people have figured out where I work and I rather not stay for that, nor does Ana deserve to put up with my crazed fans."  
  
"But-"  
  
"My mind is made up."  
  
"You-"  
  
"And no matter what you say, it's not going to change."  
  
Hana threw her pillow at her laptop, knocking it onto the floor. Lúcio didn't comment when she made no attempt to fix her screen. He instead watched her stomp out of her room.  
  
He waited.  
  
Lena squeezed Lúcio's hand, "She's just worried."  
  
Lúcio squeezed back, "I know…But hey, I know all of this is sudden, are you sure you'll be okay by yourself?"  
  
She nodded, "Don't even worry love, I have enough money to get by until I leave for England. I'll be just fine."  
  
In that instant, Hana picked up her laptop, and stared into the cam, eyes red and glossy with tears, "Listen here Lúcio, if you get yourself hurt I will come find you. I will come help you out."  
  
"Hana I-"  
  
"You've been incredibly stupid lately. You always put everyone first, and try to hide how you feel, but I know you've been hurting, and I've been powerless to stop it. No matter how many funny threads I text you, or how often I call you, I know you're still lonely and-" She choked on a sob, wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her pink hoodie, and Lúcio smiled. She was wearing his hoodie, the same one he left behind years ago, "And if this will help you feel better, then I fully support you, but please, _pleaseeeeeee_ , be careful."  
  
Though his voice broke off into a squeak, he replied, "Hana, I love you."  
  
She placed a kiss on her index finger, and then pressed it to her cam, "I love you too dummy."

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

His mother is a dedicated catholic. Yellow, red and white roses decorate the outlines of the shrine his mother had built for the Virgin Mary.

 _Vergim Maria_ , she'd say between whispers and prayers.

_We are the saints, which hang from our necks, which are pressed to our chests._

Joana, oh sweet, caring mother of his, would press her fingers, which held the sigil of a prayer between her thumb and index finger, and she'd drag it down his forehead, to the tip of his nose, to the sides of his cheeks, to his chin and then his lips.

 _Amen_ , they'd both say, before Lúcio, a boy of barely eight, would hop off to wonder the streets.

While Lúcio hadn't followed the same believes as his mother, he respected them because he respected her. There was something warm and comforting when it came to the baptized pictures of the saints his mother prayed to every night and every morning, something awfully fulfilling about the glass candles which flickered and danced as his mother lowered her head and thanked God, and thanked the Virgin Mary, and thanked the saints, the thousands of saints, who looked over their tired heads.

Lúcio isn't sure how he will tell his mother of his upcoming departure. He knows she will cry, he knows it will hurt her, and he hates himself for it. But he hopes, prays, that she will understand and support his intentions.

He can't continue like this. He refused to continue waiting, that's not him, that will never be him.   
He's going to look for Jamie, he will find him and he will make him explain what the fuck his problem was.

  
Before he steps further into the house, he takes his time to offer a prayer to the giant statue of the Virgin Mary his mother had placed near the entrance of her vast, vast garden.

He then took a deep breath and stepped outside, hoping to find his mother among the lines of vegetables she often looked after, but when he doesn't find her there, he moved deeper into the garden. Lúcio had made sure his mother had plenty of room to fill her backyard with all kinds of plants and trees, and he was more than happy to see that after all this time she still enjoyed her gardening hobby.

When Lúcio finally locates his mother, he spots her crouched, pulling weeds from the ground surrounding her precious rose bushes. He took a step forward, only to take two steps backwards when he spots him.  
Tall, skinny, sunburned and cheerful Jamie.

They seem completely unaware of Lúcio's presence as Jamie crouched besides his mother, long fingers enclose the patches of weeds her fragile hands had missed. Jamie opens his mouth, and Lúcio almost expects to see spiders and maggots crawl from within the dark depths as it happens in his nightmares, but he's quite surprised, even more horrified when Jamie speaks broken Portuguese. Lúcio is close enough to hear what's being said but there's static in his ears, loud, loud white, painful static.

His mother laughed, placed a few pats on Jamie's bare shoulder and replied.

It goes back and forward, until Lúcio stumbled over his own feet in an attempt to flee the scene.

Both his mother and Jamie turned their eyes on him, his mother quite alarmed, before her expression softened, and then Jamie…Jamie's innocent, sheepish smile, which instantly grew wider when intense autumns fall upon Lúcio.

The man wiped his hands off on his jeans and approached Lúcio, his left arm extending forward, in an offer to help the man back up. Lúcio stared at the arm, watching as the plastic and rubber tendons disappeared below plates of bright orange armor. Noting Lúcio's panic, Jamie quickly withdrew his left arm and offered his right arm, "Sorry mate, forgot ya aren't used to me new arm…or leg…" Jamie's eyes flickered downward, onto the peg that now sat where his tarnished right leg used to be.

Lúcio blinked, and after the fourth or fifth blink, he furiously rubbed at his eyes, frustrated when Jamie still appeared, with the same confused look, each time Lúcio opened his eyes. It takes him several minutes to comprehend the situation: Jamie is real. This isn't his brain playing mind games on him. This isn't an other dream that will later transform into the ugly, dark smoke of a nightmare. Lúcio gathered himself off the floor, and stepped closer.

His fingers shake as they fall against Jamie's chin, retreat as if burned when he confirms that the man is indeed skin, flesh, blood and bone. His breath is thin, wispy, as he bites down on his lip and placed his palm on the scars found right below Jamie's left cheek, the ones that twist downward, onto his shoulder blade. When Lúcio had last seen Jamie, the wounds had been a bright red, but now, they were a faint brown. He had healed over time, and Lúcio hadn't been part of it. 

In fact, the further Lúcio's eyes roamed, the more he discovered to be different and unknown. Jamie now sported wide, dark-inked tattoos over his right hand and fingers. Thin tree branches and vines twisted around his thin wrist, the tiny leafs avoiding all moles and scars, as if they were shy to make contact with Jamie's past. The face of a tiny frog could be seen peeking out of one of the inky trees, its round eyes hardly visible, but once Lúcio had spotted it, he easily found several other frogs camouflaged within the brown bark of the willow tree.

Then there's the scars.

Lúcio had memorized each dent, each wound, each hollow pit on Jamison's body- Finding new scars made his chest swell with a sort of loneliness he couldn't quite explain nor did he want to focus on it. Above his lips, there's a wide scar, it runs alongside his jaw, and ends right below his nose. Lúcio pressed his pinky against the line, fingers curling inwards when Jamie shivered.

Jamie wrapped both hands around Lúcio's face, the cool metal of his left limb foreign to Lúcio's sensitive skin.

Jamison is smiling wide, so wide, he might just pick the sun by one of its radiant rays and swallow it whole…

Lúcio…The poor boy who carried misery and insomnia on the small of his back, blinked away tears and raised his fist, bringing his knuckles to meet Jamie's mouth with a satisfying sound. He put all his feelings, all his anger, all his hurt, all his pain and aches into that one hit and he's more than happy to see Jamie fall flat on his ass.

His mother, who Lúcio had completely forgotten about, sprung to her feet the moment Jamie collided with the floor. Lúcio gave her no time to speak, because before she can say anything, he wrapped a hand around her wrist and led her inside the house, and slammed the door shut.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

He's spilling, combusting, his chest hurts, it hurts and he's overflowing and he's terrified. He's drowning in his thoughts and his feelings, he can't breathe and each time he tries to get ahold of himself a sob breaks past his throat, sending yet another wave of hurt down his spine.

It's not until his mother kneeled before him and took his face into her hands that Lúcio managed to calm his frantic heart. Once he gripped onto sanity, he clung to it, nestling further into his mother's arms. She rocked them both, back and forward, gently shushing Lúcio's cries which later morphed into squeaky hiccups. He felt pathetic crying into his mother's bosom, much like he used to do when he was a boy and he'd scrape his knees or palms on the pavement of their front step.

After Lúcio's ragged breathing subsided into something less concerning, his mother pulled away. He sees her lips move, can't quite make out the words but he gets the gist of it.

She want's to get rid of Jamie.

Lúcio almost laughed at her determined expression, but he knew she was dead serious. It was of no surprise that his mother hadn't known that the man she had allowed into her home was the very same man that broke her son's heart. Lúcio hardly talked about Jamie, kept every detail of his appearance and personality to himself only because it had been too painful to talk about. But now that his mother was aware of just who Jamie was, Lúcio feared she would knock him unconscious with a shovel and hide his body under the rose bushes she loved so much.

While the offer was tempting, Lúcio shook his head.

His mother's lips twisted into a firm scowl. She didn't like it, but she wasn't about to stop Lúcio. Her son was strong, stronger than most men. He could handle himself just fine.

Lúcio convinced her to take a walk while he took care of Jamie, and while she would've preferred to join him, she leaves him with a kiss and a prayer.

 _- ___  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"You would be the one to find my mother's house, invite yourself in, all while keeping your name under wraps." Lúcio snided.

Jamie whipped his head around the moment he heard Lúcio's voice, getting to his feet as Lúcio approached, "That wasn't me intention really. The introduction never came up. I only told her we were friends…"

"Is that all we are?" Lúcio scoffed, "Friends?"

"Wasn't sure if yer mum knew ya were into men."

"She doesn't care."

"Good," Jamie paused awkwardly, "She seems kind."

"She is."

They stood in silence, Lúcio's glare burning into Jamie's nervous face.

"Look, Sant-"

"Don't." Lúcio's voice was firm, filled with rage and with the desire to hurt, and damage and destroy, "Don't you dare call me by my name."

Ouch…

Jamie shifted his weight around, unsure of what to do or say, "I can leave if ya want me to."

"Wouldn't make much of a difference." Lúcio snapped, "You were gone for two years, almost three, I think I can handle it just fine if you were to leave again."

"I know and-"

"No, no you don't know!" Lúcio bared his teeth, spitting venom as he took a step forward, "You will never understand how much it hurt to wait for you, you will never come close to comprehending how much it fucked me up! There were times where I was convinced you'd died, and sometimes, sometimes…It would hurt so bad that I had to try to pretend that I had never met you. I had to pretend that you were part of my imagination…"

"Lúcio I-"

"Stop! Stop saying my fucking name you asshole!" Again, he raised his fist and slammed it into Jamie's face. The man's head jerked upwards as Lúcio's knuckles collided with his nose. Jamie stumbled back, blood dribbling down his mouth. He doesn't have time to dodge the second punch Lúcio throws his way. In fact, he makes no attempt to avoid the third, and the fourth and the fifth punch. Jamie spat out a wad of blood, teeth stained in a vibrant red as he stood his ground.

Jamie smirked, "Then let me confirm yer suspicions. I left because I was bored. Bored of ya, and bored of the daily shit we dealt with. The only reason I came back was to see just how fucked up ya are over it and I can't believe that after all these years yer still-"

Lúcio knocked Jamie to the floor by slamming his body against his. He quickly mounted the Junker, bailed his hands into fist and repeatedly slammed them into Jamie's face. The man below Lucio spewed lakes of blood, choking on the thick liquid as he attempted to take in a breath of fresh air before Lúcio slammed his fist into his cheeks yet again.

 _His heart has been torn apart-_ The wounds, and the scars begin to show, and Jamie can see the pain in Lúcio's eyes as his knuckles make contact with the bone of his nose. All he can see are those sad, sad brown eyes- everything else melts.

_Oh, his heart has been torn to ribbons._

Lúcio's shoulders shake, and his final blow is weak compared to the many others Jamie had felt bruise and damage the surface of his skin and what laid underneath flesh and muscle.

Jamie can barely breathe, every hole in his body seems to leak blood, ruby red blood, down the corners of his lips, his nose, between the gaps of his teeth. Even if his vision is dancing and throbbing a dimmed black, Jamie sought Lúcio's face with trembling fingers. He wiped away the tears streaming down his face and coughed out a weak laugh, "All tired out mate?"

Lúcio caved inwards, head falling against the curve of Jamie's neck, as his tears trailed down the length of exposed collarbones "You're an asshole."

"Nah…Just wanted to help ya get it all out." Jamie closed his eyes. Every joint in his body ached, and anytime he talked, his cheeks and face muscles would burn. He didn't need a mirror to know he'd bruise. With a groan, he attempted to talk through the blood in his mouth, "Ya think ya can listen to me explanation now?"

Lúcio didn't reply. Jamie took that as an affirmative.

"I wish I could say that returnin' to yer side was my first and only priority…But it wasn't." Lúcio's nails dug into Jamie's arm, the Junker cringed, but ignored the man's obvious displeasure, "I thought it would be simple. Get into Junkertown, collect the things I needed, and get out. Except I forgot Hog and I aren't wanted nor welcomed 'round those parts. Still, we forced our way in, and got in contact with old mates of ours. Not friends, more like, business partners."

Jamie could feel the heavy mechanical arm weighting heavily against the floor. It had taken some time to grow accustomed to it but it was something he overcame with Mako's help.

"Building me-self a new arm didn't take as long as I thought it would. Always have been rather good at buildin' though. All I had to do next was chop off the dead-weight of me rotten leg-" Lúcio tensed, and Jamie ran a hand down his back, "Didn't hurt. The piece of junk had been dead for years, it was more like a blessin' getting rid of it."

Jamie was surprised when Lúcio continued clinging to him, he'd almost expected him to get up and kick him in the balls before walking away. The Junker was absolutely thankful and awe-struck that Lúcio was allowing him the opportunity to explain his absence.

"Anyways, getting' new limbs only took a couple of months. Maybe half a year, a bit more. I had every intention to look for ya, but…Word got around. The awful Jamison Fawkes was back, and there were plenty of folks who wanted a quick word with me, none of 'em friendly." Jamie chuckled, coughed when the waves of laughter became stuck in his throat. God, it hurt to breathe, and while Lúcio wasn't making it any easier, Jamie didn’t have the heart to push him off. The man embraced Jamie as if he were scared he'd turn to smoke and fade beneath the pads of his fingertips.

"Had a few fights around town…Went into hidin', only to realize it would be the last time I would ever engage in dirty combat. Went a little crazy after that…"

Jamie can still taste the bitter substance of explosives within the insides of his cheeks. His heart still drums frantically loud when he recalls the way buildings and several other structures crumbled to his feet as his mad laughter tore through the dark skies. He'd only fucked around with old grudges, and with those stupid enough to take Junkrat and Roadhog head on. Not only did they shatter their homes to the ground, they'd also filled their pockets with unnecessary goods. Though Roadhog never voiced his opinions, Junkrat had a feeling the large man had missed knocking unwanted and undeserving Junkers to the floors, scraping their bodies against the walls until they begged for mercy.

They were natural, angry criminals after all.

It wasn't until they'd (mostly Junkrat) had picked a fight with the wrong people that Junkrat realized one thing: Lúcio had mellowed both Jamie and Roadhog out. Without the DJ, they were nothing but reckless men with a death wish and a thirst for money (junkrat) and justice (roadhog).

This time, Junkrat was sure they would die. Roadhog had advised him to step down: _We've done enough. We've had our fun. Lúcio is waiting._

He'd been waiting for a year now, hadn't he? Fuck, who knows? Jamie never kept track of time.

Junkrat did not stop. Not when they were both cornered in the hallways of a rundown casino, owned by one of the Junkers Junkrat had doubled crossed nine years ago. He demanded to know where Junkrat's famous and fabled treasure could be found, and when Junkrat (with a smirk and a wad of mucus spat to the floor) had refused to share his secrets, the enemy Junker said he'd pull Jamie's teeth out, one by one by one, and then his eyes, and then he'd fill his eye sockets with piss-

Something like that, something around vulgar lines.

Jamie paid no attention to it, and he would've continued bluffing and laughing if it weren't for the gun-shot that pierced the air. Frantically, Jamie searched his body, but when he found no wound or blood, he was confused. Only then did he realize he wasn't hurt. No…he wasn't bleeding, because Roadhog had stepped in front of him, hauled him to the back and used himself as a shield. Roadhog's left arm is consumed by a thick curtain of red, and Jamie's stomach instantly sinks. Anger burns bright in his chest as he sprung forward and knocked several men unconscious with his fists alone. Junkrat wasn't a fan of close-combat, he preferred to stick to the sidelines, launching bombs into the battle field. But Roadhog was hurt, and he didn’t have any weapons on him. He made do with what he had. The rage powering his muscles was enough to clear the area. Of course, he couldn't have done it without Roadhog, who despite being unable to move one of his arms, could do just fine with one hand.

Oh he had been sure they would die, because by the end of it, they had both been exhausted. As they rested, surrounded by the dead bodies of the men who had attempted to kill them, Junkrat sighed and leaned against Roadhog, whose breathing was ragged and raspy. Mako's face was covered in blood, and it wasn't until Junkrat had a good look that he realized the man had lost his left eye. A knife had sliced through his eyelid, and the blood and loose skin hanged off Mako's cheek in chunks. Junkrat panicked, ignoring his own wounds as he scrambled closer.

In the end, Roadhog ignored Jamie's squeals of concern, placed a hand on his shoulder and dragged him to a sitting position, You can't keep living like this Jamie.

And he was right.

Though Roadhog's intentions had been kind, Junkrat could only focus on the painful truth: Junkrat was unable to take care of those he loved. With this fact weighting heavily in his heart, Junkrat refused to return to Lúcio.

Because there was always someone there to take a bullet for Junkrat, and it shouldn't be Roadhog and it sure as hell would never be Lúcio. Even when Roadhog patched himself up and had assured Junkrat with a low chuckle and a It's Just a Scratch, Jamie couldn't shake his doubts. And even though he missed Lúcio, missed his smile, his warmth, his voice, his eyes, his hands, his lips, his presence- Jamie refused to go back.

It was simple.

Lúcio deserved better.

As he explained all of this to the man who now laid within his arms, Jamie felt his eyes burn with the sweat sliding off his forehead, and something else, "Santos, ya deserve the world. I just ain't the right man for ya."

There's a long moment of silence and if it weren't for Lúcio's uneven breathing, Jamie would've assumed he'd fallen asleep. After a couple of minutes, Lúcio raised his head, his sadden expression drowned out by the streaks of blood around the corners of Jamie's eyes.

"Then why the fuck did you come back?"

"I don't know…"

Lúcio curled his fingers, chest heaving as he tried to keep his emotions under control. But it hurt, his insides never had the time needed to mend, and whatever had been fixed was now flared a dangerous color of sickness. He shook his head, refusing to meet Jamie's bloody face.

"It's too late. You're much too late."

"Don't say that-"

He clicked his tongue roughly against the roof of his mouth as he pushed himself away from Jamie, who gritted his teeth from the sudden movement, "It's too fucking late."

Jamie struggled to get off the floor, and once he did, he missed the weight of Lúcio's body pressed against his. He missed the faint smell of strawberries and mint that clung to Lúcio's skin. He missed him…

His face aches, and he's not sure if the swelling around his nose and mouth hurt more than the pains lurking within his chest.

"Should I go then?"

Lúcio doesn't acknowledge the question. He leaves it hanging in the air for a few seconds before he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Not yet. I want to see Mako…and I can't let you step foot outside looking like that."

Before Jamie could argue, Lúcio wrapped a hand around his wrist and pulled him inside the house.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

They sit in uncomfortable silence as Lúcio gently cleans off Jamie's face. With wet cotton balls, he makes sure to remove all the dirt and blood from the corners of Jamie's mouth and nose. There's a few cuts surrounding the sharp lines of cheekbones, Lúcio is careful as he runs the cloth down the injured skin. After he's done, he notes the swelling located around Jamie's left eye, and the dark purple traces of bruises flourishing down his cheeks and jaw. There's a contrast between the scars of the old burns Lucio had once treated and the new bruises and swelling. And one similarity: Lucio had caused both.

Lúcio's hands had been steady, until he realized that it had been due to his uncontrollable anger that Jamie had gotten hurt. His fingers shake as he makes eye contact with Jamie,

"I'm sor-"

"No," Jamie cuts Lúcio off before the apology could be delivered, "I deserved worse."

Lúcio almost growled, "You had no obligation to come back. What I did was uncalled for, no matter how angry I was."

"I provoked ya and I broke a promise."

Lúcio averted his gaze as he placed the first-aid kit back in the bathroom's bottom cabinet. He was glad his mother kept one in stock, even happier when he realized she was still out running errands and had missed the one-sided fight. However, he was sure she would be back soon.

"Where's Mako?"

"He went to search the streets for ya. We didn't know exactly where ya'd be but we were gonna check every possible option."

"How did you find me?"

At the question, Jamie smirked, only to wince in pain seconds later, "Uh…I've always been good with numbers, all I had to do was remember the digits ya always used to dial when ya wanted to get in contact with yer mum."

"Oh." Simple, Lúcio wasn't quite sure how to feel about it, "Where are you two staying?"

"We haven't really slept. Soon as we stepped foot in Brazil, we've done nothin' but track ya down. We only brought the clothes on our backs."

Lúcio took in Junkrat's dirty shorts, which were now covered in blood, and as usual, the Junker lacked a shirt. He sighed, placing a hand over his face a he spoke.

"You can stay with me until you go back home."

Jamie's eyes widened, "Uh mate, ya don't have to we will be f-"

"No. Let me do this."

The determination in Lúcio's voice was strong and unwavering, even if Jamie were to argue, he knew he wouldn't change his mind. Instead, he nodded, and accepted Lúcio's offer.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

When Lúcio stepped foot in his apartment, Lena quickly stepped out of her room, bat high over her head. Sure, he had struggled opening the door, only because he could feel Mako's and Jamie's eyes on his back, but he hadn't expected his roommate to grow alarmed by the ruckus. When she noticed Lúcio, she became embarrassed and placed the bat down, hiding it behind her back, and then her lips formed a perfect little circle when she saw Lúcio had brought company.

Jamie eyed Lena from head to toe, and then smirked (or at least tried to through the swelling of his face), "Feisty one, I see."

Lúcio rolled his eyes, "Ignore him, all he spouts is bullshit."

Yes, he sounded bitter, and yes, Lena noticed but didn't comment on it. Instead she decided to question something else, "I thought you were leaving tonight."

Lúcio wanted nothing more than to dismiss her curiosity with a simple wave of his hand but he knows it won't be that easy. Behind him, Jamie had perked up, and he was now intensely focused on the two roommates.

"I left my luggage here…and I don't think I'll be traveling anymore."

Lena arched an eyebrow but quickly smiled at the news, "Oh! That's marvelous! I'm sure Hana will appreciate the news! Australia is so-"

"Lena…" Lúcio cut her off, a pleading look in his eyes.

Lena seemed to understand because instead of continuing she stepped away from Lúcio, and into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder as she went, "Would you boys like something to eat? The skinny one looks like he's about to snap in two."

Though Lúcio was sure Jamie's tongue was burning with questions, he followed after Lena, loudly hollering that he could in-fact use a bite or two. Lúcio was left to ponder the situation but didn't get far, because before he could slip away into the depths of his thoughts, a heavy hand is placed on his shoulder.

Mako's right eye is a pile of scars and burned skin, but his left, dark eye still glowed with familiarity and kindness. His black hair had grown whiter, the man appeared older, wiser. Lúcio hadn't focused on the heavy man much, even after they'd found him waiting outside his mother's house. Apparently he'd been aware of the fight between the two younger males but he had done nothing to stop it. And even as he trailed behind Lúcio and Jamie, he didn't say anything or do anything to break the tension- It wasn't his place.

But now, as Mako rubbed his fingers into Lúcio's back, the shorter male's lips trembled with uncertainty. He leaned into Mako's comforting touch, and shivered when the man's low, calm voice reached his ear, "I missed you little Lúcio."

Lúcio rubbed at his eyes, head buried within the soft cotton of his sleeve. Voice hot and muffled as he replied with a hiccup in his voice, "I missed you too." 

_-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Heaven will fall.

Lúcio is certain the clouds, and the stars, and the sun, and the moon will crash onto the earth.

Because everything seems so small, so insignificant, so painfully inaccurate.

He stared at the mismatched curtains adorning the living room's windows. Lena had complained about them, and Lúcio had promised he'd purchase new ones as soon as he had time to go shopping but an opportunity had never presented itself. He sat up on the couch, the soft sheets he'd brought with him slide off his body and pile around his legs. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't sleep.

It's hard to believe that if he were to walk into his bedroom, he would find Mako and Jamie sleeping on his bed. It's hard to believe that after three years, the two men Lúcio had grown dreadfully fond of had walked back into his life as if they had never left it.

He sighed.

The couch wasn't terribly uncomfortable, and he could go without the comfort of his bed for a couple of days as long as he didn't have to be anywhere near Jamie. It was easier for his two former bodyguard's to share his king-sized bed than having them share the cramped sofa. But his inability to find sleep wasn't due to the soft pillows cushioning his back, no, he had his wondering thoughts to blame for that.

He tossed and turned until he gave up.

As quietly as possible, Lúcio collected his jacket and shoes, putting them on and then stuffed his phone into the back pocket of his baggy sweatpants. He's about to slip out the door when a cough made him spin around in alarm.

Jamie stood with an unlit cigarette hanging off his lips, the pajama bottoms he'd borrowed from Lúcio were short on him, but hanged off his skinny hips, revealing the sharp bone of his pelvis. The man hadn't bothered with the matching pajama top, he preferred to go without the itchy fabric. Lúcio angrily averted his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest as Jamie walked past him.

Without a word, he held the door open for Lúcio. For a brief moment, Lúcio considered shutting it close and heading back to his restless sleep, but he needed to get out, with or without Jamie at his side.

Down the apartment's stairs, past the empty hallways, and into the cold streets of Brazil, Lúcio walked ahead of Jamie, not even bothering to glance back to make sure if Jamie was really following him.

Lúcio knew he was.

He heard the click of a lighter, the sharp inhale of smoke as Jamie breathed in, and the soft crunch of rocks and pebbles under his dirty combat boots. Lúcio hated, absolutely loathed, how comforting it all was, as if the time they spent apart could easily be weaved back together, making his aches and suffering seem almost irrelevant. It simply could not be that easy. Lúcio refused to forgive and forget the three years that had nearly ruined his sanity- Because no matter what Jamie said, he could not erase the nights Lúcio spent curled up in bed, crying over a loss he couldn't quite understand.

"Do ya hate me?" Jamie's voice is an echo in Lúcio's ear.

"Yes."

"That's good."

Lúcio scrunched up his nose in disgust, "Good? What about all of this is good to you?"

Jamie didn't reply, but kept up with Lúcio's pace.

When the seconds stretched into minutes, Lúcio came to a stop and turned to face Jamie.

"When are you leaving?"

Jamie scratched at his cheek, fingers flinching away the moment they hit the swollen and bruised side of his chin, "Uh…Within a week…Could make it shorter if ya want us gone sooner."

Lúcio's anger sizzled into a soft hum of distaste.

"Sooner. How soon?"

"Tomorrow."

He fiddled with the strings hanging off his jacket, "A week is fine."

"We could always find a hotel and-"

"What were you expecting?" Lúcio interrupted.

Jamie's confusion leaked into his words, "What do ya mean?"

"When you made the decision to come look for me, what were you expecting?"

"Dunno…" Jamie removed the cigarette from between his lips, holding it within his fingers before he dropped it to the ground, "I knew ya'd be angry enough to knock the shit outta me. Knew ya wouldn't take me back. Wasn't gonna ask ya to anyways. What I really wanted was to reassure ya."

Lúcio felt his heart weakly thump, "Reassure me?"

"Yeah." Jamie eyes shone unbelievably bright as his gaze flickered upwards to meet Lúcio's, "I wanted ya to know ya were never the problem. It had always been me. I wanted to give ya peace of mind…Just in case ya needed it."

_Bump._

Lúcio shook his head, refusing to acknowledge Jamie's word and the sentiment lurking behind them, "I don't need your fucking reassurance."

But he did, he really did. It was the only reason why Lúcio had decided to travel to Australia in the first place. He was desperate to learn the reason why Jamie had shoved him aside and forgotten about him...What had Lúcio done wrong?

"Fine." Jamie shrugged, and Lúcio would've thought it was the end of it if it weren't for Jamie closing the distance between them within the blink of an eye. The taller man draped an arm around Lúcio's waist, pulling him closer, until Jamie's breath was a ghost against Lúcio's skin. Lúcio was paralyzed, eyes wide open as his brain failed to analyze its surroundings. It was an overload of emotions- While Lúcio knew he should be enraged by Jamie's bluntness, he was much too focused on Jamie's lips, and the way his fingers threaded down the small of his back.

"I missed ya Santos. So much…I'm sorry I took so long. I'm sorry for being a gutless, cowardly idiot." He dropped a kiss against the curve of Lúcio's nose, "Sorry I missed me chance."

_Bump._

Jamie laced their fingers together, brought Lúcio's sore knuckles to his lips and kissed between the gaps, "Sorry I hurt ya."

_Bump._

"I'm sorry."

He stepped away from Lúcio. The dazed DJ stumbled backwards, his body ached with loneliness and confusion when Jamie's warmth was replaced with the cold airs of Brazil. Lúcio watched as Jamie turned away and began walking back into the apartment. He's not sure what he wants to do- His head screams words of bloody murder- _Let him go, he's a fucking asshole._ While his heart twists and turns within the confinements of white bone- _Go after him. You miss him. You miss him. You miss him._

"Prove it." He whispered it through clenched teeth, only allowing his voice to increase in volume when Jamie slowly turned around to face him, the soft question, the ghost of a silent _"what "_ resting between his parted lips.

"I said, prove it. Don't just throw apologies around. Prove to me that you truly are sorry."

After minutes of absolute silence, Jamie spoke,

"Okay. I can do that."

Heaven fell through.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"You're an idiot."

"Excuse me?" Lúcio lowered his cup of tea, eyes sharp as he sought Mako's gaze.

"You're pushing Jamison too far." Mako focused his one eye on the ripples found within his tea cup, "I'm not saying go easy on him, I'm not saying your anger will destroy you and him. I'm saying Jamison is an idiot who can't figure out the simplest of equations but could easily find the cure for cancer."

"Nobody is asking him to stick around. He can leave whenever he pleases."

"Bullshit." Mako grunted, "You know as well as I do Jamie won't leave."

"I'm not forcing him to stay." Lúcio stated rather sourly, "He left once, he can do it again."

"You're as stubborn as he is…" He took a long drink from his cup, before continuing, "I can tell you one thing though: He **is** sorry. The poor fool cried plenty. He…" Mako paused, "He lost himself for awhile."

Something within Lúcio resonated with Mako's words, but he quickly shushed them and buried them under layers of anger, "I don't care."

Mako chuckled, "Fine. Have it your way."

Growing tired of the conversation, Mako indulged in another topic.

"How's your music coming along?"

"It's…" Lúcio rubbed at his goatee, "It's good. I mean, for awhile I was stuck, but the people at the coffee shop helped out a lot. They reminded me were I originally came from." He smiled warmly, "I have lots of ideas for an upcoming album, all I have to do is find a producer. Hopefully one that won't suck the life out of me and my music."

Mako nodded, "Lena did mention you worked with coffee," A small snort left his scarred lips, "You were never good at making tea…I bet you're worse at making coffee."

Lúcio's lips stretched wide, "Hey now, my coffee was good. At least, that's what the regulars said."

"Maybe they only said that because they liked your pretty mug."

"Oh shut it…"

"You seem to enjoy the line of work, are you going back?"

Lúcio's eyes narrowed slightly, "She told you I quit?"

Mako smirked, "Figured it out myself." He tapped a large finger against his forehead, "Apparently you were planning a trip to…Australia?"

"It was a set destination, but I was not going to stay there. Call it a passing point if you will." Lúcio muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the extend of Mako's knowledge.

"Hypocrite."

"Maybe."

"Again, you're being an idiot."

"Maybe…" Lúcio tensed, "But I can't forgive him, not yet."

"Understandable." Mako sighed, the huff of air almost rough as it existed his round cheeks, "What will you do now?"

"Huh?" Lúcio arched an eyebrow, confused by Mako's question.

"You're unemployed."

"O-oh, right, right. Well…" He relaxed only a little, as he stretched his arms above his head, "I never really needed the money, I just wanted something to keep me busy." He shrugged, "Even if I wanted to return to the coffee shop, I can't. The place has been swarming with paparazzis."

Lúcio had seen it on his twitter feed. Though he hadn't updated his profile in over three years, he still occasionally checked in to see what the latest gossip was. He'd been quite shocked to find that the trending topic had been his own name. No matter how much time he spent in the spot-light of fame, he would never be able to understand the media's obsession with his life. Really, all he cared for were his fans and his music, he could do without the blinding lights of unwanted attention and fame.

He'd sent Ana a quick apology when he found out the coffee shop was being hounded by thirsty photographers, to which she replied with a _It's fine. Business is blooming, and I can't complain._

For some reason, Lúcio had expected his fame to die down and rot away- But the longer he spent away from Hollywood, the crazier the media became. For now, Lúcio was fine hiding away, but he knew his time was limited. He missed his music, his fans, and the concerts that came with the drop of a new album. He was determined to sort out his life before the year was over.

"It's fine. Ana appreciated the shout-out. She's a kind woman, she deserves the customers she gets." Lúcio emptied his tea, cleaned his mouth with his wrist as he beamed, "Besides, it's time I got back in track. My fans are waiting for me."

The look Mako gave him was quite reassuring, filled with approval.

"I believe in you."

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Piecing music together came as easy as tying his shoe.

Lúcio had to question his sanity- How could he have left his turntables untouched for years? As he ran his fingers down the smooth surface, he felt connected, he felt powerful, unstoppable.

He built his own empire, he wasn't going to be shot down. No. He'd overcome the blocks lodged in his brain.

Purify that which made his head heavy with worry.

Threading lyrics, sounds and vocals together only made easy because of the people found within Brazil: Home.

He recalls the smiling faces of customers, their encouraging words, their dedication to their work and hobbies.

The calloused hands of the people of Rocinha, their tired eyes, their brilliant and kind smiles, their stubbornness, their desire to keep living, their inability to accept defeat.

The path unwinding towards a better life- Rocinha isn't the poverty stricken area Lúcio had grown up in, it was now thriving with life and fascinated tourist who were eager to see where a battle for freedom had been fought.

Lúcio and his people had reigned victorious-

He was a king and he refused to become be-headed by past and current obstacles.

And so the music unwinds from his fingers, like wispy strings of glitter and sound-

Lúcio's eyes shine with the unbreakable stream of creativity.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Ya were gonna leave everything behind for me?" Jamie asked through a cloud of smoke.

Lúcio scoffed, and rolled his eyes, "You're not _that_ special."

A long finger taps at the end of a burning cigarette, Jamie's smirk curls in a mocking sort of way, "Aren't I?"

"No. You aren't." Lúcio harshly answered.

"Hmm," Jamie's knees popped as he squatted down besides Lúcio, "Ya said goodbye to everyone 'cos ya were gonna head up to Australia and look for little ol' me. Coincidence?"

Lúcio frowned, looked away from the screen of his phone to stare up at Jamie, who despite lowering himself still hovered a few inches above Lúcio, "I was going to look for you, but only so I could punch you in the face. You saved me the trip."

Jamie ran the cool metal of his hand down the bruises littering his skin. The swelling had gone down but his eye was still an awful shade of red and black, "Could've been worse."

Lúcio arched an eyebrow, "Worse?"

"You could've killed me."

Lúcio laughed, actually laughed. Jamie's heart throbbed, even as Lúcio did nothing but spit venom, "Please, I wouldn't ever stain my hands with your dirty blood."

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lúcio's anger hurt, but Jamie wasn't the least bit surprised by it.

He'd known Lúcio was the vengeful type, he knew he was the type to hold grudges until the grudge itself burned holes through the bones in his body.

He wasn't rude, nor wrathful- He was patient and kind, that is, until he was fucked over.

Jamie knew he'd fucked up.

He was paying the consequences.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lúcio refused to be touched by Jamie, and so, Jamie kept away.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Did it hurt?" Lúcio asked as he brushed his fingers over the scars holding Mako's right eye shut.

Mako gave a rough hum before replying, "Not as much as the look on Jamison's face. He blames himself for it."

"He's careless…"

"It's fine. I'd lose my left eyeball for him too. He cares…He cares a lot you know?"

Lúcio smiled, " I know."

 

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Mako and Lean had left the apartment hours ago. The two of them got along quite well, in fact, Lúcio had never heard Mako talk as much as he did when Lena was around. They talked about tea, family recipes, what and what not to put in a meatloaf-  Lúcio often drifted off. He hardly noticed they had left until he spotted the cute pink note stuck to the fridge.

_Be back later. Went off to buy groceries._

Lúcio sighed as he crumbled the note and tossed it into the waste bin.

He'd spent the entire morning trying to get in contact with an old friend, a producer of some sorts. True, he lacked the title, and the proper platform, but Lúcio knew if anyone could help him get his album together, it would be him. Hana had said that  Lúcio had gained enough popularity to go solo, he knew it was true, but he didn't think he could handle the stress of it. He needed help, and he needed someone he could trust.

Hopefully, he'd hear back from his friend soon.

Settling into the couch,Lúcio is so caught up in his head he doesn't notice Jamie enter the room. The lanky male plopped himself down besides Lúcio, close enough to cause Lúcio to grow tense, but not close enough to touch.

They stare at the blank t.v screen.

Lúcio side eyed the Junker, "Do you ever wear a shirt."

"Don't got any." Jamie tilted his head, "Maybe ya can go shopping with m-"

"No."

"Show me around then."

"No."

"Shame."

Lúcio got up to leave, but before he could fully stand, Jamie wrapped a hand around his wrist, "There's a festival of some sort comin' up. Come with me?"

 Lúcio opened his mouth to turn down the offer, but Jamie quickly butts in, "Before I leave, please, come with me."

"How do you know about it?" Lúcio wearily asked.

"Saw posters, and yer mum told me all about it when I first met her."

Ah, that's right. Jamie and his mother had talked for a long period of time before Lúcio had barged in. He never had gotten around to asking his mother what exactly she and Jamie had discussed, mostly because he'd forgotten about it but also because it wasn’t any of his business. As much as he wanted to keep Jamie away from his friends and family,  Lúcio had no right to deny him the chance to talk to them.

"She said ya really like it, were the star of the show even."

Lúcio is flustered by the compliment, "Anyone can join in really. It's nice…We all walked as one, and for those few days, it felt like there was no difference between us."

Jamie perked up, his eyes lighting up with excitement, and almost as if he had read Lucio's mind, he chimed in with a singy-song tone, "So let's go shoppin' for new threads. My treat."

Lúcio couldn't help but smile, "Jamie, you hate shopping."

"For ya, I always make an exception."

Like a caged bird, his heart fluttered.

What a dirty bastard. Jamie knew Lúcio couldn't pass up the opportunity to go shopping, and with Hana gone, he hardly ever went out on his own...

Lúcio gently pulled away from Jamie's touch, "Alright…We can go now if you want. The carnival is a few days away so we could always go later-"

Jamie stood, "Let's go now, come on-"

"Er-" Lúcio watched as Jamie stomped towards the door, "You're not going out like that."

"Like what?" Jamie glanced down at his bare chest, and its exposed hip bones, his boxers doing a poor job of hiding what Lucio's PJ bottoms failed to cover. A blush overtook his cheeks, as he sheepishly smiled at his appearance, "Don't really got any clothes mate. Mako threw out me shorts, said there was no salvaging them."

Lúcio pursed his lips, "I trust his judgment." Lúcio moved towards his bedroom, beckoning Jamie closer with the length of his index finger, "I'll lend you some clothes."

Jamie followed after, "Don't think anythin' ya have will fit me."

"That's loser talk." And with that, Lúcio started pulling out several sets of clothing.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"I look ridiculous." Jamie whined as he tugged the tip of his baseball cap to the side, and took in his reflection bouncing off Lúcio's bathroom mirror.

It had taken them about half and hour before Lúcio had managed to find clothes that would fit Jamie's skinny frame. An oversized stripped T-shirt had been tucked into a pair of baggy sweatpants, followed by Jamie's filthy combat boots. It was certainly a look.

Lúcio gave a thoughtful hum as he leaned against the bathroom's sink. "I like it," He eyed the Junker carefully before swiftly looking away, "It suits you. Douchey snap-back and all."

Once again, Jamie examined the baseball cap on his head, "Ya like hats a lot don't ya?"

"They really fuck up my hair but yeah…I tend to not wear them as often as I'd like to so…" Lúcio smiled, "I guess you can wear them for me."

Jamie's uncertainty broke off into a blown out smile, "It would be me pleasure."

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

They walked around Leblon's more populated areas for a few hours. Lúcio was careful to keep his head bowed, just in case anyone in the crowd recognized him. However, Lúcio quickly noticed how difficult it was to keep away from the public's eye when his companion was a six foot, blonde giant, with a crooked smile and a crazed look in his beady eyes. Thankfully, most of the people surrounding them were so taken back by Jamie's foreign appearance they didn't really bother to notice Lúcio. Lúcio didn't mind nor complain, he took advantage of the sudden and bizarre moment of freedom.

After they had filled their arms with bags, and after Lúcio had convinced Jamie to buy several outfits that had caught his attention, they took a break in one of the many restaurants found within the shopping center.

It was only until Jamie offered to pay for Lúcio, and pulled a shiny debit card from his wallet, that the DJ realized one thing:

"How the fuck does a criminal open a bank account?" 

"It ain't under me name."

"Did you use a fake profile?"

Jamie shook his head and grinned, "Nah man, I don't fuck around with that shit, just ain't worth getting' caught for. Besides, every bank recognizes my ugly mug." He took a sip of his smoothie, only speaking when he'd drain half off it down, "Personally, I would've stuck to cash, and bars of gold, but Hoggie said havin' a bank account would be convenient. Especially now that he wants to open his own restaurant- Can't be storin' our loot under rocks anymore."

"Anyways," Jamie waved a hand in the air, "While everyone seems to hate me, Mako still has some friends, I mean, actual friends, like the type who do shit for ya and don't expect repayment. One of 'em fellows has a clean record, cares a lot about Hog, so she helped him, money-wise. The account is hers, but we're the only ones who have access to it. Mako and me combined all of our wealth, ya know, trust him and all. What's mine is his, and vice versa. Ya get the jist?"

Lúcio slowly nodded, "So basically, Mako is pretty much your rock."

"Of some sort…yeah. He's the one who stops me from blowin' meself to bloody stumps by makin' sure my ideas aren't too…Bad?" He wrinkled his nose, "Only ever steps forward with his own ideas when I need to clean up me act."

Lúcio breathed out a sigh relief, one he hadn't been aware of and one Jamie quirked an eyebrow at. When Lúcio noticed Jamie's questioning stare, he quietly offered a reply, "Guess I was just worried you'd get yourself killed, but I should've known Mako was taking care you."

Jamie's eyes went wide, blinking a couple of times before he stupidly blurted out, "Ya were worried about me?"

"Don’t read into it." Lúcio replied with a hint of annoyance.

"Aww…Santos I-"

"Jamison." Lúcio warned, and Jamie swallowed down his teasing tone.

"Sorry," Jamie's voice had gone soft, "I wish I had been here to take care of ya."

_Bump._

"I was fine on my own." Lúcio stubbornly insisted as he ignored the way his palms shook, and his chest ached.

"I know. Regardless, I will always regret not bein' here with ya."

Lúcio frowned, and tried his best to point the conversation in another direction, anything to get the beat of his heart out of his ears, "Forget about it. It's in the past. Anyways, we should hit up the stores again, I still need to find something I like."

Before Jamie could stop Lúcio, the shorter male had dumped his empty smoothie in the trash and exited the restaurant.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Jamie arched his left leg as he turned on his heel and posed. Both his prosthetic were visible, and for once, Jamie didn't feel out of place because of it.

Lena clapped her hands, Mako only nodded and gave his partner a thumbs-up.

It was the third outfit Jamie had modeled, and Mako and Lena had approved every single one.

They congratulated Lúcio, praised him for having an excellent taste in fashion.

"It must have been hard finding clothing that would look good on him." Lena mused as she took in Jamie's faded blue jeans and plain white shirt.

"He's already an eye-sore," Mako added in with a smirk, "He's now _kind of_ bearable to look at."

Jamie pushed blonde locks out of his face, strands of hair that had crowned his cheeks in an attempt to messily adjust his surprisingly white sock, "Oi, ya dipshits, I'm standin' right here, can hear every word ya say, have some dam respect."

Lúcio only laughed as he took Jamie by the waist and fussed with the belt looping his waist. He wasn't quite sure if the belt should be kept or dropped, and he was so invested in his work he hardly noticed when Jamie went dead silent and turned a beautiful shade of red- Much like the flames, Jamie loved, oh so desperately loved.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

Lúcio found it highly irritating how easy it was to talk to Jamie.

Even when he tried to keep his distance, Jamie could easily make Lúcio laugh.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"You learned Portuguese…" Lúcio eyed Jamie carefully, "Why?"

"I wanted to communicate with yer mum. I know how much ya love her, and I wanted to get to know her properly." Jamie confessed with a shy little grin, he then paused, the smile replaced with a smirk, "Also, I wanted to understand yer dirty talk durin' sex."

Lúcio covered his face with his hands.

Fuck.

This man would be his death.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

"Did ya like working here?" Jamie asked as he examined the pot of fresh flowers, and then turned his attention to the pictures scattered across the coffee shop's walls.

"Yeah I did." Lúcio was relived to see that the coffee shop was currently empty. Though Ana had appreciated the sudden bloom of customers, she had also said that she was too old to deal with large crowds so when the coffee shop returned to its normal, calm atmosphere, the older woman was happy.

"The people here seem fond of ya." Jamie noted the handful of customers that had greeted Lúcio with hugs and wide smiles, "I wonder why, 'cos your coffee makin' skills aint that good."

Lúcio snorted, "They're better than yours."

"True…"

They had occupied one of the few tables pressed against a wall. Jamie had taken one side, and Lúcio had taken the other. Their preferred drinks were simple: sweet tea and a cup of caramel coffee.

Jamie stirred his tea, absentmindedly, he watched as the people exited and came into the shop, only truly focused on Lúcio when the DJ loudly cleared his throat.

"What are you thinking about?"

Embarrassment was apparent in Jamie's smile, "Oh…I was wonderin' what it would be like to be served and waited on by ya. Seems nice and all…"

Lúcio was at a loss for words, Jamie's bashful expression only making his stomach twist in frilly pinks and reds, "It-"

"It's quite nice." A familiar voice piped in.

Lúcio turned his head only to see Akande walking towards them. The man only came to a stop when he was a foot away from where they sat, and Lúcio had to crane his head a little in order to greet the male with a kind, yet shy, smile.

"Oh you don't mean that." Lúcio replied with a bit more confidence.

"I do. It was the best customer service I ever received."

Jamie, who'd been awfully silent during the short exchange, arched an eyebrow and eyed Akande from head to toe, something the other man did not fail to notice.

"Whose the Oaf?"

Lúcio frowned at the insult, for a second, he'd forgotten how rude Jamison could be.

"His n-"

"Akande. I'm Lúcio's _friend_." He pronounced the last word rather slowly, a smile curving his lips as he placed a hand down on Lúcio's shoulder, "We became quite close during your absence."

"Mind runnin' that by me again?" Jamie's expression had darkened. Eyes narrowed, flared wide with jealousy and aggression, he bared his teeth. Jamie stood from his seat, and though he was a good foot shorter than Akande he did not seem to shrink down when the man's strong laugh boomed through the shop. 

"I could snap you in half Junker." Akande replied with ease, as he sized up Jamie with a cool and collected gaze.

Jamie, whose fists were planted firmly at his sides and who was rabid with anger, scoffed, "Try me." His voice was heavy with rage, with the need to break and crumble whoever dared oppose him.

Much too shocked with the sudden turn of events, Lúcio stood up, planted his hands firmly on the table and growled out a steady yet rough, "Stop it. Both of you."

Lucio watched as Jamie's jaw slowly relaxed, his tense shoulders followed suit.

Akande fixed the collar of his shirt, suddenly looking extremely uninterested in the fuming Junker. As he spoke, he made sure to address Lúcio and only him, "I apologize. I had only wanted to say Hello. The unwarranted insult pushed things in another direction."

Jamie snorted, "Sounds like a fuckin' excuse to me mate. I saw ya eying me as if I were nothin' but a pile of trash."

Lúcio rubbed at his face as he sat back down, appearing quite tired and small, "Get over yourselves."

Akande complied, "I will take my leave," He paused, "I'll text you later, Lúcio."

And with that, he left to make conversation with Ana.

Jamie watched him, intense eyes following him through the room as he dug the ends of his fingers into the table.

"Jamie." Lúcio softly warned, he gently nudged him under the table with his foot.

The Junker's attention snapped back towards Lúcio, not all that pleased with the sudden interruption, "What?"

"Leave it alone."

Jamie's strained laughter crinkled and faded into something sharp, "Did ya fuck him?"

They both stared at each other, the two unwilling to look away and admit defeat. Lúcio frowned and rolled his eyes, a scowl quickly overtook his once exhausted demeanor, "That's none of your business Fawkes. If I slept with him or not, that's not your problem."

Jamie's face twitched, his eyes flickered back towards Akande, and for a minute, Lúcio was sure Jamie was about to pick a fight. When Jamie stood from his seat, Lúcio flinched, his heart a frantic stream of uneven beats as he watched Jamie make his way through the shop. Jamie is big, but Akande is much bigger, and Lúcio is certain that the man could easily break every bone in the Junker's body.

Lúcio springs to his feet, determined to keep Jamie calm and out of harm's way. Except, Jamie keeps walking, past Akande, and out of the shop, until Lúcio loses sight of him completely. With shaky breathes, Lúcio sinks back down, fingers curling around the spot where his chest throbbed and pulsed with worry and alarm.

Then comes the guilt. It streams through in waves, with the intention to cripple his insides, to leave him empty and worried. He has to remind himself that there's no need to feel regret nor guilt- Jamie had left him for three years, after promising it would only be a few months. Lúcio had every right to move on, and even though he had failed the last part, he still didn't need or want the unreasonable amount of guilt pressed against the center of his tummy.

Way too much drama- Why couldn't he have stuck to the single life, where his only concerns were his music, his family and friends and fans? No, he just had to get involved with a Junker, a wanted criminal who by the looks of it still had several issues to resolve.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

When Lúcio stepped back into his apartment, the clock had just struck three a.m. It had been nice to walk around and clear his head though somewhere in between his steps and the silence, he noticed how empty and lonely his shadow had become when he didn't have Jamie walking besides him. He scolded himself- He had done just fine without the Junker for three years, he didn't need him now and he certainly wouldn’t need nor want him in the future. In the depths of his mind, his denial rang untrue.

All he wants to do is sink into the comfort of his bed, but his desire quickly turns sour once he remembers who exactly occupied his bed. With a grunt, he made his way towards the living room's couch, almost feeling regret for not taking Lena up on her offer. She had suggested they share her bed, it was big enough for the two of them, and Emily wouldn't mind, but Lúcio had felt too shy to accept. Now, he really wished he would've shoved his manners aside all for the sake of comfort.

Lúcio quickly realized he isn't about to call it a night, because at the far end of the couch sat Jamie, eyes rimmed red as they both took each other's presence in.

"Sorry…" Jamie sniffled and Lúcio had to take a step back.

_Shit._

"Are you crying?" The doubt in Lúcio's voice is enough to make even himself cringe with the insensitive undertones lurking behind his words. He wants to punch himself for the nervous laugh that stumbled past his lips, wishing he could at least wrap his head around the situation, "Jamie…You don't cry."

"I ain't cryin'." Jamie spat, furiously rubbing at his eyes as he retreated further away from Lúcio, "I mean, yes I'm cryin' but not 'cos I'm sad. Fuck that shit."

Panic flared within Lúcio, "Is Mako okay? Where is he? Is he-"

"Jesus fuck Santos, he's fine. He's sleepin'."

"Oh…" Lúcio shifted his weight, "Then why are you crying."

"Out of anger."

"…Never seen you cry before. Didn’t think you were capable to actually do so." Lúcio said with an awkward smile, "I've seen you in pain because of the burns, losing your arm and leg, but even then, you didn't cry."

"I am human, aren’t I?"

"Well yes, but it's…You know…"

"Yeah, I know." Jamie sighed and Lúcio sat down besides him but made sure to keep distance between them, "I hadn't swallowed down me anger in a long while, kinda forgot a fellow can overflow if he doesn't let it out."

"You were angry about Akande?" Lúcio asked, clearly wanting to get straight to the point despite the way Jamie seemed to tense.

"Fuckin' furious. The shit-stain did it on purpose ya know? He knew exactly what to pick at. Fuckin' prick." 

Lúcio chewed at the inside of his cheek, "Maybe so…"

Jamie scoffed and threw his hands in the air in defeat, '"Fuckin' get it mate, I know I ain't have no fuckin' right to get so steamed over it but Santos," He crept closer, and Lúcio went completely still as Jamie wrapped a hand around his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb, "I'm still head over heels for ya, and it's hard not to cry when yer involved, cos it fuckin' kills me when I think I will never be able to wake up besides you again-"

"Jamie…" Lúcio stammered out, instantly regretting how nervous he sounded, instantly hating himself for the way his heart palpitated to the sound of Jamie's voice. He made no attempt to push Jamie away, Lúcio allowed him to press their lips together, although he remained motionless.

Jamie spoke into Lúcio's mouth, "It's difficult to fall out of love when I'm already so fuckin' deep."

He ran his tongue over the curve of Lúcio's lips, Lúcio inhaled a heavy breath of lust as Jamie continued on, "It makes me sick seein' ya with other blokes. Yer mine-"

_Mine, mine, all mine._

They both sank, deep into each other.

Lúcio ran his fingernails down Jamie's back, grinning when the Junker moaned out against his skin. They are teeth and jaws and ragged breathes, and Lúcio kept pushing his hips up against Jamie just to hear him choke on his own spit. Jamie grunted as he left open mouthed kisses on Lúcio's neck, relishing in the soft little whimpers the DJ was trying to suffocate within the depths of his cheeks.

A funny thought: Lúcio never expected to fall in love with Jamison Fawkes- their first interactions were nothing but unpleasant. He still remembers how Jamie swore they would never be friends, how he was only there to protect him, nothing more, nothing less.

Now, as Jamie clung to him, and whispered dirty words into the shell of Lúcio's ear, and swore that he loved him and only him, Lúcio smirked.

Lucio kissed the burn marks running down Jamie's cheeks and shoulders, the scars on his jaw and belly, licked the lines of faded tattoos as well as the new ones.

Jamie's hold was as possessive and feral as the first time they had slept together- Desperate, as if the world was crashing down around them, he wasted no time and bit into every inch of Lúcio. He has half the mind to push him away, get out of it before they plunge off the edge together, but Jamie placed a hand in between Lúcio's thighs, and his brain turns to a pile of glitter and mush. All coherent thoughts are thrown out the window, and just like that, Lúcio is heaving and drooling out swears, which Jamie happily licks up- His pleads, his moans, the way his breath thins out into a whine- it's all music to Jamie's ears. 

And it's all his.

- __  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

_"I think I loved ya the moment I saw ya."_

_"Jamie, that's bullshit. You were so apprehensive about being around me."_

_"I lied, ya know? I'm a good liar, just lied 'and lied and lied cos when I first saw ya, looking all prim and perfect behind yer desk, I knew, I knew I was fucked."_

_- ___  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
\- 

The next morning is a lazy one. They only get two hours of sleep, Jamie chuckling under his breath as Lúcio complained.

"If you would've kept your hands to yourself, I would've slept more." Lúcio said as he lifted his body away from Jamie, who had squeezed the smaller man in besides him. The couch was much too small for the two of them but that didn't stop them from sleeping on it together, or at least, trying.

"Quit yer bitchin', we need to get up before Lena and Hog wake up."

"…Easier said than done," Lúcio planted his feet down on the floor, stretched his arms above his head and then winced when his back and shoulders pulsed with pain. He examined the bruised bite-marks decorating the length of his neck and torso, knowing that his back was (most likely) covered in scratches, "Shit man, was this necessary?"

"Ya weren't complainin' 'bout it when I was fuckin' ya." The Junker snickered, pulling away from the couch, only to wrap his arms around Lúcio's waist. He placed a small kiss on one of the many bites running down Lúcio's neck. The DJ shuddered but did not pull away. Instead, he tipped his head to the side and allowed Jamie to cover him in kisses.

"Sorry mate, I just missed ya. Swear on me life all I did was think about yer pretty face. Sometimes, I'd even get off to it, y'know? On past memories when we were together in bed."

Lúcio grunted, embarrassed by Jamie's straightforwardness, but he pushed it aside in order to say something that had been bothering him the entire night, "Did you really not sleep with anyone else?"

There's no hesitation in Jamie's reply, "Nah…Couldn't ever replace ya…If I wasn't battlin' me shitty self-esteem, I was busy tryin' to blow up some random fuckers just to get me mind of ya."

"It's not like you to lose your confidence Jamie." Lúcio licked his lips once Jamie's mouth hovered over the point of jawline. He swallowed, hating the way his voice broke off into a whisper, "You're the most confident man I know."

"I ain't shit Santos…" Jamie's breath is hot against Lúcio's skin, and he can almost feel the tremble in his tone, "Most of it is an act…And it hit me hard when I realized I'll never be good enough for ya…But I wanna try…I want to get better."

"You should've contacted me. I would've reassured you…"

"It ain't yer job to look after me."

Lúcio frowned, "It's not your job to look after me either, and yet, you still fucking do it."

"That's different."

"No, it’s not." Lúcio moved away from Jamie's embrace, turning on his heels to face the Junker head on, "You run away for three years because you thought I deserved better, and you only came back because you’re a selfish bastard. If you can’t have me, no one else can. Selfish, and greedy…" Lúcio darkly chuckled, "Are you aware of how fucking stupid that sounds?"

"It's the truth though…" Jamie shrugged, "I'm a shitty person…I've left a lot of folks behind, they're all doing better without me, and I was hopin' that would be the case for ya too."

"I was miserable without you."

Jamie cupped Lúcio's cheek, smiling when he leaned into the warm touch, "I'm here now."

Lúcio didn't reply.

Jamison Fawkes is a liar, but regardless, Lúcio loved him.

 _-_  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ...  
-

They came to the festival as a group but eventually, Lena and Mako went their own way. The two decided to head straight to the Sambadrome, while Jamie and Lúcio explored the street festivals.

Those were Lúcio's favorite. As a child and a young adult, he'd often join the strings of samba dancers- These were a bit more messy, but full of freedom. Everyone free to dance and sing regardless of your wealth and talent. It was easy to pull Jamie into the crowd of dancing citizens, and at first, the Junker stood there, looking quite dazed and shocked when Lúcio twirled him into his arms. Slowly, but surely, Jamie joined Lúcio, though his limbs moved at an awkward pace and he would never be as graceful as his partner, Jamie still grinned from ear to ear.

Lúcio laughed- Despite it being drowned out by the booming sound of music, Jamie's heart picked up the melody of his bubbling joy and skipped several beats in his chest.

When he was a teen, the opportunity to join one of the many samba schools had never presented itself, but that never stooped Lúcio from joining the street festivals. The praise and compliments he received made his spirits soar high, even now, as an adult of almost thirty, Lúcio couldn't help but beam anytime someone noticed how fluid his movements were. He absolutely adored dancing and singing with the people of Brazil- They moved as one, breathed as one, lived and existed as one.

Oh, he remembers the years in which Vishkar tried to put an end to Rio's carnaval, the cries of outrage that rang out, the fights which broke invisible shackles. He was proud of what Rio had accomplished, and what they had managed to salvage despite the years spent under supervision.

People were lost in their own enjoyment they hardly paid attention to Lúcio, and for once, he felt as if he were truly free to move about without the constant worry of being recognized and signaled out. Putting his fame, and personal problems aside was refreshing. He still had to contact a producer willing to work with him, he had to wrap up his album, and he wasn't sure how the media or his fans would react to his sudden come-back, but for now, he relished in Jamie's heat, and allowed his worries to melt away.

Beads of sweat rolled down Lúcio's neck, as Jamie pulled him closer. They drifted towards the outskirts of the crowd and came to a halt seconds later.

Lúcio's ears ring with dozen pitches of blind static, and Jamie's lips moved to form words.

When Lúcio is unable to understand what's being said, Jamie looped an arm around his waist, tugging the male even closer, until Jamie's lips brush against the shell of Lúcio's ear.

The words are simple, clean, and void of hesitation- Confident, much like the man Lúcio had grown to love and accept.

"Casa conmigo." (Marry me.)

So composed and so clear, they make Lúcio's head hazy, and heavy with fog. Jamie's thick accent is still there, hiding behind his speech, but Lúcio hardly noticed it because his heart is in his ears, and his stomach in his throat.

At Lúcio's confused expression, Jamie smiled and repeated himself, this time, in English, "Santos, marry me."

Here is where Lúcio's heart explodes into millions of pieces, here is where his breath is a thin string of air as he struggled to piece together his thoughts and emotions- because it comes all at once: his shock, his joy, his tears, and the strained little laugh that pushed itself past his lips. And his bones creak, like the floorboards in an attempt to tip-toe quietly through the apartment- The bones creak due to the excitement- to the fireworks exploding above their heads and in their chests, and he can’t keep it bottled in- It over flows.

Lúcio's voice is shaky, as he rolled onto his toes in order to kiss Jamie's lips, "You mean that?"

"Of course I do…"

"But…What about-"

"We can figure out everythin' togther, 'cos I'm here to stay and we have plenty of time for whatever comes our way."

Lúcio swallowed, "Are you sure?"

Jamie nodded, much too nervous to actually trust himself to speak, because if he were to open his mouth now, his voice would break and his soul would pour out. He'd become a broken record of compliments and _I love you's_. And Lúcio, whose wide eyed and trembling, beautiful, divine Lúcio, tipped his head to the side, placed a kiss on Jamie's cheek and spoke,

"Okay, let's get married."

For the first time, in a long while, Lúcio and Jamie can hear each other's heart beats, moving as one, existing as one:

 _Their hearts go bump, bump, bump._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took so long with this chapter bcs i focused on Lucio's culture a whole lot and i was dreading getting it wrong so I did lots fact checking and had my wonderful friend Sassi translate and guide me seeing as they're Brazilian and that helped so much! (blows a kiss to the sky for Sassi <3)  
> i will always be mad that Lucio's culture isn't touched upon by blizzard so here i am, trying to fill in the gaps o: because as a latina, i really appreciate when latino/a characters are well written!! and i realized that mexicans (thats me!) and brazilians actually have so much in common so that made it easier too! i still think i could've done better but dam it i tried my best!  
> sorry for the long wait tho! we did it, we reached the end. baby's first multi fic is done and over.  
> my biggest regret was sticking to jamie's "ya's" and "yer's", never again.  
> thank you for all the kudos and the lovely comments, like woah! they motivated me to keep writing <3 lemme know how this chapter made you feel!  
> (also im working on another boombox fic...soon...i promise that one will be equally as sad)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by an amazing artist! you can find their work here: https://natnichapan.tumblr.com/post/158674598995/two-sketchy-bodyguards-hired-by-extremely-hot-n 
> 
> the second half of this is already written out i just need to edit it. i tried my best to catch my own typos...but alas. anyways, to the 5 boombox fans (we are rare, and we are suffering) that will possibly read this, please feel free to shout at me in the comments!


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